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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, 



DRILL-BOOK 



OF 



ELOCUTION 



BY 

ELOISE A. H AFFORD 

TEACHER OF ELOCUTION, IVESTTOWN BOARDING SCHOOL 






PHIL A DELPHI A 

J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY 
i8 9 4 



H* 



Copyright, 1894, 

BY 

Eloise A. Hafford. 



Printed by J. B. Lippincott Company, Philadelphia. 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. 



PART I. 

ANIMATION. PURE TONE. 



Preface 



First Lines of Extracts. 

1. Insects generally must lead a jovial life . 

2. Cheer up ! my friend, cheer up, I say 

3. O blithe newcomer ! I have heard . . . Wordsworth 

4. Hurrah for the sea ! the all-glorious sea ! 

5. A hurry of hoofs in the village street . Longfellow 

6. What matter how the night behaved? . Whittier . 

7. O larks, sing out to the thrushes . . 

8. A true life must be genial and joyous . H. Greeley 

9. Now is the high-tide of the year .... Lowell , . 
10. For in all things he acquitted himself 

like a man W. Penn . 



PAGE 

, 15 



15 
16 
16 
16 
16 
17 
17 
17 
17 

19 



Selections. 

1. The Cheerful Locksmith. Adapted . . C. Dickens . . 

2. The Barefoot Boy. Adapted ..... Whittier . . . 

3. The Good Time coming Charles Mackay 

4. A Laughing Chorus Eytinge .... 

5. Now Adelaide Proctor 

6. The Fish I didn't catch ....... Whittier . . . 

7. Kobert of Lincoln Bryant .... 

8. The Sea Barry Cornwall 

9. The Voyage Irving 

10. To a Skylark Shelley .... 

11. Cheerfulness Friswell .... 



19 
21 
23 
25 
26 
27 
33 
35 
37 
39 
42 



4 CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

PART II. 

ARTICULATION. 

Preface . 44 

First Lines of Extracts. 

1. Lovely art thou, O Peace ! 44 

2. Not, my soul, what thou hast done . . . J. K. Lombard . . 45 

3. Truth, crushed to earth, shall rise again Bryant 45 

4. When, in the course of human events . Jefferson .... 45 

5. Hail, holy Light, offspring of Heav'n 

first-born Milton 46 

6. O scenes surpassing fable Cowper 47 



Selections. 

1. Arraignment of Catiline Cicero . . 

2. Address to the Mummy Smith . . . 

3. The Nature of True Eloquence .... Webster . . 

4. God Derzhaven . 

5. Edinburgh H. M. Field 



49 
51 
54 
55 
55 



PART III. 

SLIDES AND INFLECTIONS. 

Preface , 57 

Eirst Lines of Extracts. 

Falling Slides. 

1. There is nothing like fun, v is there ? v 57 

2. Awake, O King, the gates unspar! N 57 

3. Ye crags and peaks, I'm with v you once 

again v Knowles .... 58 

4. Righteousness exalteth a nation N .... Bible 58 

5. Go to the ant, x thou sluggard ! v .... Bible 58 

6. I dwell, where I would ever dwell v . . i Wirt 58 



CONTENTS. 5 

PAGE 

Rising Slides. 

1. Ashamed to toil, art thou? 7 Dewey 58 

2. Is this the part of wise men 7 59 

3. They tell us that we are weak 7 .... P. Henry .... 59 

Rising and Falling Slides. 

1. Sink 7 or swim, v live 7 or die v Webster 59 

2. Do you think your hands were made to 

strike? 7 , 59 

3. " Will they do it?" 7 " Dare they doit ?" 7 59 

4. See V See V the dense crowd quivers 60 

5. We live in deeds, 7 not years N Bailey 60 

6. Shut now the volume of history 7 .... Everett 60 

Circumflex Slides. 

1. None dared withstand him to his face . Whittier .... 61 

2. The common error is to resolve to act 

right after breakfast 61 

3. If you said so, then I said so 62 

4. O ! but you regretted the partition of 

Poland! 62 

Selection. 

Tact and Talent. Adapted 62 



PART IV. 
STRESS. OROTUND. 

Preface 64 

First Lines of Extracts. 

1. Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean — 

roll ! Byron 64 

2. Thy shores are empires Byron ...... 65 

1* 



8 CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

8 Thou glorious mirror . . . Byron 65 

4. Ay ! gloriously thou standest there . . Bryant 65 

5. Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State! . . Longfellow. ... 67 

Selections. 

1. Hymn to Mont Blanc Coleridge .... 67 

2. Kome and Carthage Victor Hugo ... 70 

3. Emblems of Liberty in Nature .... Knowles 72 

4. Kilimandjaro B. Taylor .... 74 



PART V. 

ASPIRATE AND HALF ASPIRATE. 

Preface 77 

First Lines of Extracts. 

1. All heaven and earth are still, though 

not in sleep , 77 

2. 'Tis midnight's holy hour, and silence 

now Prentiss 77 

3. Still night ; — and the old church bell 

hath tolled 78 

4. All things are hushed, as Nature's self 

lay dead Dryden 78 

5. All silent they went, for the time was 

approaching 78 

6. Night, sable goddess, from her ebon 

throne Young .... * 78 

7. It was night — And, softly, over the Sea 

of Galilee Willis 79 

8. Down the dark future, through long 

generations Longfellow . . 80 

9. Now black and deep the night begins to 

fall Thomson .... 80 



CONTENTS. 7 

PAGE 

Selection. 
Hush Proctor 80 



PART VI. 

EMOTION. 
Preface 82 

First Lines of Extracts. 

1. Flower that in the crannied wall .... Tennyson .... 82 

2. And so beside the silent sea Whittier .... 82 

3. Only waiting till the shadows are a little 

longer grown 83 

4. Yet Love will dream, and Faith will 

trust Whittier .... 83 

Selections. 

1. Give me Three Grains of Corn, Mother 83 

2 Curfew Longfellow ... 85 

3. The Cradle-Song of the Poor Proctor 87 

4. The Song of the Shirt Hood 89 

5. The Famine. Adapted Longfellow ... 92 



PART VII. 

MISCELLANEOUS. 
First Lines oe Extracts. 

1. I called unto my God out of the great 

deep , Thomas Story . . 95 

2. Now on the hills I hear the thunder 

mutter „ Lowell 95 



8 



CONTENTS. 



3. Look ! look ! that livid flash !..-... Lowell 

4. Hush ! Still as death Lowell 

5. In our age there can be no peace that is 

not honorable Sumner 



PAGE 

, 96 
, 96 



97 



Selections. 

1. Break, Break. Break Tennyson 

2. The Sea Burroughs 

3. An Alpine Storm at Lake Geneva . . . Byron . . 

4. The Bells of Shandon Mahony . 

5. The High Tide on the Coast of Lincoln- 

shire. Adapted J. Ingelow 

6. Bodily Exercise Addison . 

7. The Charcoal Man Trowbridge 

8. The Bells Poe . . . 

9. Keeping his Word Preston . 

10. The Cataract of Lodore Southey . 

11. Bugle Song Tennyson 

12. Tobacco , . . Lawrence 

13. Evening at the Farm Trowbridge 

14. Drifting Read . . 

15. Tribute to Water Gough . 



98 

99 

101 

102 

103 
108 
111 
113 
116 
118 
122 
123 
125 
126 
130 



INTRODUCTION. 



These exercises have been prepared and the selec- 
tions made under a pressing sense of the desirability 
of there being a Drill-Book of Elocution which shall 
contain suitable material for exercise in the different 
styles of reading, and shall be free from the objec- 
tionable matter found in many books now in circu- 
lation. We do not so much wish to introduce the 
student to new selections as to present a collection of 
exercises which shall recommend themselves because 
they are of known value. 

In our work, we have realized most forcibly that 
one selection of merit carefully prepared by the pupil, 
although weeks may be spent upon it, does more for 
the real training of the voice than many slightingly 
read. The student may tire of the drill required, but 
it is for the teacher, by skill and care, so to animate 
the pupils that they shall persevere until the desired 
perfection is attained. 

In the first place, a good position of the body must 
be assumed; viz., the head must be nearly erect if read- 
ing, or entirely so if speaking, with the chin drawn in. 
The chest must be raised, the weight resting on both 
feet if only a short extract is to be read, or on one if 
a longer selection is undertaken, while the other is 

9 



10 INTRODUCTION. 

slightly advanced. The book must be held sufficiently 
high to permit the reader to see the type clearly, but 
not high enough to obstruct the voice. The arm should 
neither press the side as it supports the book, nor 
should it be held so far from the body as to give an 
awkward appearance. 

A good position taken, all consciousness of self must 
disappear. By this it is not meant that the personality 
of the reader shall be concealed, but that he shall be 
so filled with the spirit of the author that the medium 
shall be lost sight of because of the greater impor- 
tance of the matter presented. A truly great orator, 
or speaker, is one who never brings himself before his 
audience, but only presents the great theme with which 
his heart is burdened. How much more should one, 
who is taking upon himself the condition of another, 
and trying to express that other's deepest feelings, 
present not himself, but the sentiments of the author 
in as nearly as possible their most perfect interpreta- 
tion. If the latter be in a glad, light-hearted mood, 
the reader must be so too, making it manifest in every 
line of the face, as well as in every tone of the voice. 
In talking, the lineaments of the face are supposed 
to assist in rendering the meaning clear, — to change 
as the thoughts change; is this not just as necessary 
when reading or reciting? A person would hardly 
consider it proper to present a smiling face while giving 
a deeply solemn selection; why, then, should the coun- 
tenance bear a stolid appearance while rendering an 
extract filled with joy and gladness? 



INTRODUCTION. 11 

Shall we not, then, enter into the matter in hand in 
such a way, become so imbued with the emotions of the 
author, that his thoughts and feelings shall become our 
own ? Then will it be that we shall not only interest 
our hearers, but compel them to listen, as well as con- 
vince them of the importance of what we have to say. 

A word as to the preparation. It is very necessary 
that the reading lesson should be studied with the 
greatest care ; and while this is true as regards stu- 
dents for whom this book is intended, it is a positive 
necessity for those in the lower grades. Thorough 
knowledge must be had of the subject-matter, while 
the definition and pronunciation of all the words must 
be learned. 

Perhaps there is no branch so neglected in the pre- 
paratory schools as that of reading; and consequently 
we are continually coming in contact with those who 
do not know how to read so as to be understood, to say 
nothing of their being able to interest their hearers. 
Does not the trouble lie in the fact that, in the earlier 
part of their education, reading was so neglected that 
bad habits were formed, or perhaps natural defects 
were allowed to go uncorrected ? If this be true, shall 
we not direct our efforts in such a way that, in the next 
generation, good readers shall be not the exception, 
but the rule ? 

A most simple division, or classification, of the work 
has been made. It may not be scientific, but it is the 
one seemingly demanded by the class of students we 
have wished to reach. 



1 2 IN TROD UCTION. 

Some of the exercises classified in one division are 
equally fitted to be used in another; e.g., many of the 
extracts used for Articulation are equally well adapted 
for practice in Stress, or Orotund, and vice versa. 
I. — Animation, Pure Tone. 
II. — Articulation. 

III. — Slides, or Inflections. 

IV. — Stress, Orotund. 
V. — Aspirate and Half Aspirate. 

VI. — Exercises of the Emotions. 
VII. — Miscellaneous. 

It is not intended that these sections shall be taken 
in course ; but it is urged that the exercises in Articu- 
lation be used continually while carrying on the work 
in the other divisions. 

As has been stated, we have not in this collection 
wished so much to introduce the student to new selec- 
tions as to present that which is of known value ; 
thus we have drawn largely from American authors, 
and now desire to acknowledge the kindness shown to 
us by the holders of their copyrights. 

The selections from Longfellow, Whittier, Lowell, 
John Burroughs, and Bayard Taylor are used by per- 
mission of and arrangement with Houghton, Mifflin 
& Co. ; the extract from Irving's Sketch Book, by ar- 
rangement with GL P. Putnam's Sons ; the extract from 
N. P. Willis, by arrangement with Maynard, Merrill 
& Co. ; the extract from H. M. Field, by permission 
of Charles Scribner Sons; the selections from J. T. 
Trowbridge and Margaret J. Preston, by the courtesy 



INTRODUCTION. 13 

of these authors ; the extract from John B. Gough, 
by permission of the publishers, A. D. Worthington 
& Co. ; the extract from the " Tobacco Problem/' by 
the kindness of the author, Margaret Woods Law- 
rence ; the selections from Bryant, by permission of 
D. Appleton & Co., publishers of Bryant's " Collected 
Poems" and of Bryant's " Poems of Nature," illus- 
trated by Paul de Longpre; the extract from Eliza- 
beth Prentiss, by permission of her publishers, A. D. F. 
Eandolph & Co. ; and " The Laughing Chorus," by 
the kindness of the author. 

Eloise A. Hafford. 

Westtowx, Pa., 1894. 



PART I. 

ANIMATION. PURE TONE. 

In order that a favorable impression be made, it is 
necessary that an animated, pleasant quality of voice 
should be cultivated. The tone should be absolutely 
pure, free from all nasal effects, and should proceed 
directly from the chest. This is true whether the na- 
ture of our selection requires a middle pitch or a high 
one, a moderate movement or a rapid one. In some 
of the selections given, the voice must be full of 
life and spirit, the very essence of gladness ; while in 
others, a simple animated spirit is manifested, such 
as would demand and keep the attention. 

EXTRACTS. 

1. Insects generally must lead a jovial life. Think 
what it must be to lodge in a lily. Imagine a palace 
of ivory and pearl, wdth pillars of silver and capitals of 
gold, and exhaling such a perfume as never arose from 
human censer. Fancy again the fun of tucking one's 
self up for the night in the folds of a rose, rocked to 
sleep by the gentle sighs of summer air, nothing to do 
when you wake but to wash yourself in a dew-drop, and 
fall to eating your bedclothes. 

15 



16 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

2. Cheer up ! my friend, cheer up, I say : 

Give not thy heart to glcom and sorrow : 
Though clouds enshroud thy path to-day, 

The sun will shine again to-morrow. 
O look not with desponding sigh 

Upon these little, trifling troubles ! 
Cheer up ! thou'lt see them by and by 

Just as they are, — like empty bubbles. 

3. O blithe newcomer ! I have heard, 

I hear thee and rejoice: 
O cuckoo ! shall I call thee bird ? 

Or but a wandering voice ? 
Thrice welcome, darling of the spring! 

Even yet thou art to me 

No bird, but an invisible thing, 

A voice, a mystery. 

Wordsworth. 

4. Hurrah for the sea ! the all glorious sea ! 
Its might is so wondrous, its spirit so free ! 

And its billows beat time to each pulse of my soul, 
Which, impatient, like them cannot yield to control. 

5. A hurry of hoofs in the village street, 

A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark, 

And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark 

Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet : 

That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the 

light, 
The fate of a nation was riding that night; 
And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight, 
Kindled the land into flame with its heat. 

Longfellow. 



ANIMATION. PURE TONE. 17 

6. What matter how the night behaved? 
What matter how the north wind raved? 
Blow high, blow low, not all the snow 
Could quench our hearth-fire's ruddy glow. 

Whittier. 

7. O larks, sing out to the thrushes, 

And thrushes sing to the sky! 
Sing from your nests in the bushes, 

And sing wherever you fly : 
For I'm sure that never another such secret 

Was told unto you. 

larks ! sing out to the thrushes, 
And thrushes, sing as you soar ! 

1 think when another spring blushes 
I can tell you a great deal more. 

8. A true life must be genial and joyous. The man 
who is not happy in the path he has chosen, may be 
very sure he has chosen amiss, or is self-deceived. But 
not merely happier, he should be kindlier, gentler, and 

more elastic in spirits, as well as firmer and truer. 

Greeley. 

9. Now is the high-tide of the year, 

And whatever of life hath ebbed away 
Comes flooding back with a ripply cheer, 

Into every bare inlet and creek and bay ; 
Now the heart is so fall that a drop overfills it, 
We are happy now because God wills it ; 
No matter how barren the past may have been, 
'Tis enough for us now that the leaves are green ; 
b 2* 



18 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

We sit in the warm shade and feel right well 
How the sap creeps up and the blossoms swell ; 
We may shut our eyes, but we cannot help knowing 
That skies are clear and grass is growing ; 
The breeze comes whispering in our ear, 
That dandelions are blossoming near, 
That maize has sprouted, that streams are flowing, 
That the river is bluer than the sky, 
That the robin is plastering his house hard by ; 
And if the breeze kept the good news back, 
For other couriers we should not lack ; 
We could guess it all by yon heifer's lowing, — 
And hark! how clear bold chanticleer, 
Warmed with the new wine of the year, 
Tells all by his lusty crowing! 



Joy comes, grief goes, we know not how ; 
Everything is happy now, 

Everything is upward striving ; 
'Tis easy now for the heart to be true 
As for grass to be green or skies to be blue, — 

'Tis the natural way of living : 
Who knows whither the clouds have fled ? 

In the unscarred heaven they leave no wake ; 
And the eyes forget the tears they have shed, 

The heart forgets its sorrow and ache ; 
The soul partakes the season's youth, 

And the sulphurous rifts of passion and woe 
Lie deep 'neath a silence pure and smooth, 

Like burned out craters healed with snow. 

Lowell. 



ANIMATION. PURE TONE. 19 

GEORGE FOX. 

10. For in all things he acquitted himself like a man, 
a new and heavenly man. A divine, and naturalist, and 
all of God Almighty's making. I have been surprised 
at his questions and answers in natural things, that 
while he was ignorant of useless and sophistical sci- 
ence, he had in him the foundation of useful and com- 
mendable knowledge, and cherished it everywhere. 
Civil beyond all forms of breeding in his behavior ; 
very temperate, eating little and sleeping less, though 
a bulky person. Thus he lived and sojourned among 
us, and as he lived so he died, feeling the same eternal 
power that had raised him and preserved him in his last 
moments. 

Penn. 

SELECTIONS. 

1. THE CHEERFUL LOCKSMITH. 

1. From the workshop of the Golden Key there 
issued forth a tinkling sound, so merry and good- 
humored, that it suggested the idea of some one work- 
ing blithely, and made quite pleasant music. Tink, 
tink, tink — clear as a silver bell, and audible at every 
pause of the streets' harsher noises, as though it said, 
"I don't care; nothing puts me out; I am resolved to 
be happy." 

2. Women scolded, children squalled, heavy carts 
went rumbling by ; horrible cries proceeded from the 
lungs of hawkers; still it struck in again, no higher, 
no lower, no louder, no softer; not thrusting itself on 



20 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

people's notice a bit the more for having been outdone 
by louder sounds — tink, tink, tink, tink, tink. 

3. It was . . . free from all cold, hoarseness, huski- 
ness, or unhealthiness of any kind. Foot-passengers 
slackened their pace, and were disposed to linger near 
it; neighbors who had got up splenetic that morning, 
felt good-humor stealing on them as they heard it, and 
by degrees became quite sprightly; mothers danced 
their babies to its ringing ; still the same magical tink, 
tink, tink, came gayly from the workshop of the 
Golden Key. 

4. Who but the locksmith could have made such 
music? A gleam of light shining through the un- 
sashed window and checkering the dark workshop with 
a broad patch of light, fell full upon him, as though 
attracted by his sunny heart. There he stood at his 
anvil, his face radiant with exercise and gladness, his 
sleeves turned up, his wig pushed off his shining fore- 
head — the easiest, freest, happiest man in all the world. 

5. Beside him sat a sleek cat, purring and winking 
in the light and falling every now and then into an 
idle doze, as from excess of comfort. The very locks 
that hung around had something jovial in their rust, 
and seemed like gouty gentlemen of hearty natures, 
disposed to joke on their infirmities. 

6. There was nothing surly or severe in the whole 
scene. It seemed impossible that any one of the 
innumerable keys could fit a churlish strong box or a 
prison-door. Storehouses of good things, rooms where 
there were fires, books, gossip, and cheering laughter 



ANIMATION. PURE TONE. 21 

— these were their proper sphere of action. Places of 
distrust and cruelty and restraint, they would have 
quadruple-locked forever. 

7. Tink, tink, tink. No man who hammered on at 
a dull monotonous duty could have brought such 
cheerful notes from steel and iron ; none but a chirp- 
ing, healthy, honest-hearted fellow, who made the best 
of everything and felt kindly towards everybody, 
could have done it. He might have been a copper- 
smith, and still been musical. If he had sat in a 
jolting wagon, full of rods of iron, it seemed as if he 
would have brought some harmony out of it. 

Dickens. 

2. THE BAEEFOOT BOY. 

1. Blessings on thee, little man, 
Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan 
With thy turned-up pantaloons, 
And thy merry whistled tunes; 
With thy red lip, redder still 
Kissed by strawberries on the hill , 
With the sunshine on thy face, 
Through thy torn brim's jaunty grace ; 
From my heart I give thee joy,— 
I was once a barefoot boy ! 
Prince thou art, — the grown up man 
Only is republican. 
Let the million-dollared ride ! 
Barefoot, trudging at his side, 
Thou hast more than he can buy 
In the reach of ear and eye, — 



22 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

Outward sunshine, inward joy: 
Blessings on thee, barefoot boy ! 

2. O for boyhood's time of June, 
Crowding years in one brief moon, 
When all things I heard or saw, 
Me, their master, waited for. 

I was rich in flowers and trees, 
Humming-birds and honey-bees; 
For my sport the squirrel played, 
Plied the snouted mole his spade ; 
For my taste the blackberry cone 
Purpled over hedge and stone; 
Laughed the brook for my delight 
Through the day and through the night, 
Whispering at the garden wall, 
Talked with me from fall to fall; 
Mine the sand-rimmed pickerel pond, 
Mine the walnut slopes beyond, 
Mine, on bending orchard trees, 
Apples of Hesperides ! 
Still as my horizon grew, 
Larger grew my riches too ; 
All the world I saw or knew 
Seemed a complex Chinese toy, 
Fashioned for a barefoot boy ! 

3. Cheerily, then, my little man, 
Live and laugh, as boyhood can ! 
Though the flinty slopes be hard, 
Stubble-speared the new-mown sward, 
Every morn shall lead thee through 



ANIMATION. PURE TONE. 23 

Fresh baptisms of the dew; 
Every evening from thy feet 
Shall the cool wind kiss the heat; 
All too soon these feet must hide 
In the prison-cells of pride, 
Lose the freedom of the sod, 
Like a colt's for work be shod, 
Made to tread the mills of toil, 
Up and down in ceaseless moil: 
Happy if their track be found 
Never on forbidden ground ; 
Happy if they sink not in 
Quick and treacherous sands of sin. 
Ah! that thou couldst know thy joy 
Ere it passes, barefoot boy! 



Whittikr. 



3. THE GOOD TIME COMING. 
There's a good time coming, boys, 

A good time coming : 
We may not live to see the day, 
But earth shall glisten in the ray 

Of the good time coming. 
Cannon-balls may aid the truth, 

But thought's a weapon stronger ; 
We'll win our battle by its aid ; — 

Wait a little longer. 

There's a good time coming, boys, 

A good time coming : 
The pen shall supersede the sword, 
And Eight, not Might, shall be the lord, 

In the good time coming. 



24 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

Worth, not Birth, shall rule mankind, 
And be acknowledged stronger ; 

The proper impulse has been given ; — 
Wait a little longer. 

There's a good time coming, boys, 

A good time coming : 
War in all men's eyes shall be 
A monster of iniquity 

In the good time coming. 
Nations shall not quarrel then, 

To prove which is the stronger ; 
Nor slaughter men for glory's sake ; — 

Wait a little longer. 

There's a good time coming, boys, 

A g;ood time coming : 
Hateful rivalries of creed 
Shall not make their martyrs bleed 

In the good time coming. 
Religion shall be shorn of pride, 

And flourish all the stronger ; 
And Charity shall trim her lamp ; — 

Wait a little longer. 

There's a good time coming, boys, 

A good time coming : 
The people shall be temperate, 
And love instead of hate, 

In the good time coming. 
They shall use, and not abuse, 

And make all virtue stronger • 



ANIMATION. PURE TONE. 25 

The reformation has begun ; — 
Wait a little longer. 

There's a good time coming, boys, 

A good time coming : 
Let us aid it all we can, 
Every woman, every man, 

The good time coming. 
Smallest helps, if rightly given, 

Make the impulse stronger; 
'Twill be strong enough one day ; — 

Wait a little longer. 



Mackay. 



4. A LAUGHING CHORUS. 



Oh, such a commotion under the ground 
When March called, " Ho, there ! ho !" 

Such spreading of rootlets far and wide, 
Such whispering to and fro. 

And " Are you ready?" the Snow-drop asked, 
"'Tis time to start, you know." 

" Almost, my dear," the Scilla replied; 
" I'll follow as soon as you go." 

Then, "Ha! ha! ha!" a chorus came 
Of laughter soft and low 

From the millions of flowers under the ground- 
Yes — millions — beginning to grow. 

"I'll promise my blossoms," the Crocus said, 
" When I hear the bluebirds sing." 

And straight thereafter, Narcissus cried, 
"My silver and gold I'll bring." 



2G DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

" And ere they arc dulled," another spoke, 

" The Hyacinth bells shall ring." 
And the Violet only murmured, " I'm here," 

And sweet grew the air of spring. 
Then, " Ha! ha! ha!" a chorus came 

Of laughter soft and low 
From the millions of flowers under the ground — 

Yes — millions — beginning to grow. 

Oh, the pretty, brave things! through the coldest days, 

Imprisoned in walls of brown, 
They never lost heart, though the blast shrieked loud, 

And the sleet and the hail came down ; 
But patiently each wrought her beautiful dress, 

Or fashioned her beautiful crown ; 
And now they are coming to brighten the world, 

Still shadowed by Winter's frown ; 
And well may they cheerily laugh, " Ha ! ha !" 

In a chorus soft and low, 
The millions of flowers hid under the ground — 

Yes — millions — beginning to grow. 

Margaret Eytinge. 

5. NOW. 

Eise ! for the day is passing, 

And you lie dreaming on ; 
The others have buckled their armor, 

And forth to the fight are gone ; 
A place in the ranks awaits you, 

Each man has some part to play ; 
The Past and the Future are nothing, 

In the face of the stern To-day. 



ANIMATION. PURE TONE. 27 

Eisc from your dreams of the Future, — 

Of gaining some hard-fought field ; 
Of storming some airy fortress, 

Or bidding some giant yield ; 
Your Future has deeds of glory, 

Of honor (God grant it may !) 
But your arm will never be stronger, 

Or the need so great as To-day. 

Eise! if the Past detains you, 

Her sunshine and storms forget ; 
No chains so unworthy to hold you 

As those of vain regret ; 
Sad or bright, she is lifeless ever; 

Cast her phantom arms away, 
Nor look back, save to learn the lesson 

Of a nobler strife To-day. 

Eise ! for the day is passing ; 

The sound that you scarcely hear 
Is the enemy marching to battle : — 

Arise ! for the foe is here ! 
Stay not to sharpen your weapons, 

Or the hour will strike at last, 
When, from dreams of a coming battle, 

You may wake to find it past ! 

Proctor. 

6. THE FISH I DIDN'T CATCH. 

Our old homestead (the house was very old for a 
new country, having been built about the time that the 
Prince of Orange drove out James the Second) nestled 



28 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

under a long range of hills which stretched off to the 
west. It was surrounded by woods in all directions 
save to the southeast, where a break in the leafy wall 
revealed a vista of low green meadows, picturesque 
with wooded islands and jutting capes of upland. 
Through these a small brook, noisy enough as it 
foamed, rippled, and laughed down its rocky falls by 
our garden side, wound silently and scarcely visible, 
to a still larger stream, known as the Country Brook. 
This Brook in its turn, after doing duty at two or three 
saw- and grist-mills, the clack of which we could hear 
in still days across the intervening woodlands, found 
its way to the great river, and the river took it up and 
bore it down to the great sea. 

I have not much reason for speaking well of these 
meadows, or rather bogs, for they were wet most of the 
year ; but in the early days they were highly prized 
by the settlers, as they furnished natural mowing be- 
fore the uplands could be cleared of wood and stones 
and laid down to grass. There is a tradition that the 
hay-harvesters of two adjoining towns quarrelled about 
a boundary question, and fought a hard battle one sum- 
mer morning in that old time, not altogether bloodless, 
but by no means as fatal as the fight between the rival 
Highland clans described by Scott in " The Fair Maid 
of Perth." I used to wonder at their folly, when I was 
stumbling over the rough hassocks and sinking knee- 
deep in the black mire, raking the sharp sickle edged 
grass which we used to feed out to the young cattle in 
mid- winter when the bitter cold gave them appetite for 



ANIMATION. PURE TONE. 29 

even such fodder. I had an almost Irish hatred of 
snakes, and these meadows were full of them, — striped, 
green, clingy water-snakes, and now and then an ugly 
spotted adder by no means pleasant to touch w r ith bare 
feet. There were great black snakes, too, in the ledges 
of the neighboring knolls; and on one occasion in 
early spring I found myself in the midst of a score at 
least of them, — holding their wicked meeting of a Sab- 
bath morning on the margin of a deep spring in the 
meadows. One glimpse at their fierce shining heads 
in the sunshine as they roused themselves at my ap- 
proach was sufficient to send me at full speed towards 
the nearest upland. The snakes, equally scared, fled 
in the same direction ; and looking back, I saw the 
dark monsters following close at my heels, terrible as 
the Black Horse rebel regiment at Bull Bun. I had 
happily sense enough left to step aside and let the 
ugly troop glide into the bushes. 

Nevertheless the meadows had their redeeming 
points. In spring mornings the blackbirds and bobo- 
links made them musical with songs ; and in the even- 
ings great bullfrogs croaked and clamored; and on 
summer nights we loved to w r atch the white wreaths 
of fog rising and drifting in the moonlight like troops 
of ghosts, with the fireflies throwing up ever and anon 
signals of their coming. But the Brook was far more 
attractive, for it had sheltered bathing-places, clear and 
white- sanded, and weedy stretches, where the shy 
pickerel loved to linger, and deep pools where the stu- 
pid sucker stirred the black mud with his fins. I had 

3* 



30 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

followed it all the way from its birthplace among the 
pleasant New Hampshire hills, through the sunshine 
of broad, open meadows, and under the shadow of 
thick woods. It was, for the most part, a sober, quiet 
little river; but at intervals it broke into a low, rip- 
pling laugh over rocks and trunks of fallen trees. 
There had, so tradition said, once been a witch-meet- 
ing on its banks, of six little old women in short, 
sky-blue cloaks ; and if a drunken teamster could be 
credited, a ghost was once seen bobbing for eels under 
the Country Bridge. It ground our corn and rye for 
us, at its two grist-mills ; and we drove our sheep to it 
for their spring washing, an anniversary which was 
looked forward to with intense delight, for it was 
alwa3 r s rare fan for the youngsters. Macaulay has 
sung — 

11 That year young lads in Umbro 
Shall plunge the struggling sheep ;" 

and his picture of the Roman sheep-washing recalled, 
when Ave read it, similar scenes in the Country Brook. 
On its banks we could always find the earliest and the 
latest wild flowers, from the pale blue, three-lobed 
hepatica, and small, delicate wood-anemone, to the 
yellow bloom of the witch-hazel burning in the leafless 
October woods. 

Yet, after all, I think the chief attraction of the 
Brook to my brother and myself was the fine fishing 
it afforded us. Our bachelor uncle who lived with us 
(there has always been one of that unfortunate class in 
every generation of our family) was a quiet, genial 



ANIMATION. PURE TONE. 31 

man. much given to hunting and fishing; and it was 
one of the great pleasures of our young life to accom- 
pany him on his expeditions to Great Hill, Brandy- 
brow Woods, the Pond, and best of all, to the Country 
Brook. We were quite willing to work hard in the 
corn-field or the haying lot to finish the necessary 
day's labor in season for an afternoon stroll through 
the woods and along the brookside. I remember my 
first fishing excursion as if it were but yesterday. I 
have been happy many times in my life, but never 
more intensely so than when I received that first 
fishing-pole from my uncle's hand, and trudged oif 
with him through the woods and meadows. It was a 
still, sweet day of early summer; the long afternoon 
shadows of the trees lay cool across our path; the 
leaves seemed greener, the flowers brighter, the birds 
merrier, than ever before. 

My uncle, who knew by long experience where were 
the best haunts of pickerel, considerately placed me at 
the most favorable point. I threw out my line as I 
had so often seen others, and waited anxiously for a 
bite, moving the bait in rapid jerks on the surface of 
the water in imitation of the leap of a frog. Nothing 
came of it. " Try again," said my uncle. Suddenly 
the bait sank out of sight. " Now for it," thought I; 
"here is a fish at last." I made a strong pull, and 
brought up a tangle of weeds. Again and again I cast 
out my line with aching arms, and drew it back empty. 
I looked to my uncle appealingly. " Try once more," 
he said. " We fishermen must have patience." 



32 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

Suddenly something tugged at my line and swept 
off with it into deep water. Jerking it up, I saw a fine 
pickerel wriggling in the sun. " Uncle!" I cried, 
looking back in uncontrollable excitement, " I've got 
a fish!" "Not yet," said my uncle. As he spoke 
there was a plash in the w T ater; I caught the arrowy 
gleam of a scared fish shooting into the middle of the 
stream ; my hook hung empty from the line. I had 
lost my prize. 

We are apt to speak of the sorrows of childhood as 
trifles in comparison with those of grown-up people; 
but we may depend upon it the young folks don't 
agree with us. Our griefs, modified and restrained by 
reason, experience, and self-respect, keep the proprie- 
ties, and, if possible, avoid a scene; but the sorrow of 
childhood, unreasoning and all-absorbing, is a com- 
plete abandonment to the passion. The doll's nose is 
broken, and the world breaks up with it; the marble 
rolls out of sight, and the solid globe rolls off with the 
marble. 

So, overcome by my great and bitter disappoint- 
ment, I sat down on the nearest hassock, and for a 
time refused to be comforted, even by my uncle's as- 
surance that there were more fish in the brook. He 
refitted my bait, and, putting the pole again in my 
hands, told me to try my luck once more. "But 
remember, boy," he said, with his shrewd smile, 
" never brag of catching a fish until he is on dry 
ground. I've seen older folks doing that in more 
ways than one, and so making fools of themselves. 



ANIMATION. PURE TONE. 33 

It's no use to boast of anything until it's done ; nor 
then either, for it speaks for itself." 

How often since I have been reminded of the fish 
that I did not catch ! When I hear of people boast- 
ing of a work as yet undone, and trying to anticipate 
the credit which belongs only to actual achievement, I 
call to mind that scene by the brookside, and the wise 
caution of my uncle in that particular instance takes 
the form of a proverb of universal application : " Never 
brag of your fish before you catch him." 

John G. Whittier. 

7. ROBERT OF LINCOLN. 

Merrily swinging on briar and weed, 
Near to the nest of his little dame, 
Over the mountain-side or mead, 

Eobert of Lincoln is telling his name: 
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, 
Spink, spank, spink ; 
Snug and safe is that of ours, 
Hidden among the summer flowers, 
Chee, chee, chee. 

Robert of Lincoln is gayly drest, 

Wearing a bright black wedding-coat; 
White are his shoulders and white his crest. 
Hear him call in his merry note : 
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, 
Spink, spank, spink ; 
Look what a nice new coat is mine, 
Sure there was never a bird so fine. 
Chee, chee, chee. 

c 



34 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

Robert of Lincoln's Quaker wife, 

Pretty and quiet, with plain brown wings, 
Passing at home a patient life, 

Broods in the grass while her husband sings: 
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, 
Spink, spank, spink ; 
Brood, kind creature ; you need not fear 
Thieves and robbers while I am here. 
Chee, chee, chee. 

Modest and shy as a nun is she ; 

One weak chirp is her only note. 
Braggart and prince of braggarts is he, 
Pouring boasts from his little throat: 
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, 
Spink, spank, spink; 
Never was I afraid of man ; 
Catch me, cowardly knaves, if you can ! 
Chee, chee, chee. 

Six white eggs on a bed of hay, 

Flecked with purple, a pretty sight ! 
There as the mother sits all day, 

Robert is singing with all his might: 
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, 
Spink, spank, spink ; 
Nice good wife, that never goes out, 
Keeping house while I frolic about. 
Chee, chee, chee. 

Soon as the little ones chip the shell, 
Six wide mouths are open for food ; 



ANIMATION. PURE TONE. 35 

Eobert of Lincoln bestirs him well, 
Gathering seeds for the hungry brood. 
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, 
Spink, spank, spink; 
This new life is likely to be 
Hard for a gay young fellow like me. 
Chee, chee, chee. 

Eobert of Lincoln at length is made 

Sober with work, and silent with care ; 
Off is his holiday garment laid, 
Half forgotten that merry air: 
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, 
Spink, spank, spink; 
Nobody knows but my mate and I 
Where our nest and our nestlings lie. 
Chee, chee, chee. 

Summer wanes; the children are grown; 

Fun and frolic no more he knows; 

Eobert of Lincoln's a humdrum crone; 

Off he flies, and we sing as he goes : 

Bob o'-link, bob-o'-link, 

Spink, spank, spink; 

When you can pipe that merry old strain, 

Eobert of Lincoln, come back again. 

Chee, chee, chee. 

Bryant. 

8. THE SEA. 

The sea, the sea, the open sea, 

The blue, the fresh, the ever free ; 

Without a mark, without a bound, 

It roameth the earth's wide regions round; 



36 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

It plays with clouds, it mocks the skies, 

Or like a cradled creature lies. 

I'm on the sea, I'm on the sea, 

I am where I would ever be, 

With the blue above and the blue below, 

And silence whereso'er I go. 

If a storm should come and awake the deep, 

What matter? I shall ride and sleep. 

I love, oh ! how I love to ride 

On the fierce, foaming, bursting tide, 

Where every mad wave drowns the moon, 

And whistles aloft its tempest tune, 

And tells how goeth the world below, 

And why the southwest wind doth blow ! 

I never was on the dull, tame shoro 

But I loved the great sea more and more, 

And backward flew to her billowy breast, 

Like a bird that seeketh her mother's nest, — 

And a mother she was and is to me, 

For I was born on the open sea. 

The waves were white, and red the morn, 

In the noisy hour when I was born ; 

The whale it whistled, the porpoise rolled, 

And the dolphins bared their backs of gold ; 

And never was heard such an outcry wild 

As welcomed to life the ocean child. 

I have lived, since then, in calm and strife, 

Full fifty summers a rover's life, 

With wealth to spend, and power to range, 

But never have sought or sighed for change ; 



ANIMATION. PURE TONE. 37 

And Death, whenever he comes to me 

Shall on the wide 5 unbounded sea! 

Cornwall. 

9. THE VOYAGE. 

To an American visiting Europe, the long voyage he 
has to make is an excellent preparative. The tem- 
porary absence of worldly scenes and employments 
produces a state of mind peculiarly fitted to receive 
new and vivid impressions. The vast space of waters 
that separates the hemispheres is like a blank page in 
existence. There is no gradual transition by which, 
as in Europe, the features and population of one coun- 
try blend almost imperceptibly with those of another. 
From the moment you lose sight of the land you have 
left, all is vacancy, until you step on the opposite 
shore, and are launched at once into the bustle and 
novelties of another world. 

In travelling by land there is a continuity of scene, 
and a connected succession of persons and incidents, 
that carry on the story of life, and lessen the effect of 
absence and separation. But a wide sea voyage severs 
us at once. It makes us conscious of being; cast loose 
from the secure anchorage of settled life, and sent 
adrift upon a doubtful world. It interposes a gulf, 
not merely imaginary, but real, between us and our 
homes, — a gulf subject to tempest, and fear, and 
uncertainty, that makes distance palpable, and return 
precarious. 

Such, at least, was the case with myself. As I saw 
the last blue line of my native land fade away like a 

4 



38 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

cloud in the horizon, it seemed as if I had closed one 
volume of the world and its concerns, and had time 
for meditation, before I opened another. 

I said that at sea all is vacancy ; I should correct the 
expression. To one given to day-dreaming, and fond 
of losing himself in reveries, a sea voyage is full of 
subjects for meditation ; but then there are the wonders 
of the deep and of the air, and rather tend to abstract 
the mind from worldly themes. I delighted to loll 
over the quarter railing or climb to the main-top, of a 
calm day, and muse for hours together on the tranquil 
bosom of a summer sea; to gaze upon the piles of 
golden clouds just peering above the horizon; fancy 
them some fairy realms, and people them with a crea- 
tion of my own; to watch the gentle undulating bil- 
lows, rolling their silver volumes as if to die away on 
those happy shores. 

We one day descried some shapeless object drifting 
at a distance. At sea, everything that breaks the mo- 
notony of the surrounding expanse attracts attention. 
It proved to be the mast of a ship that must have been 
completely wrecked; for there were the remains of 
handkerchiefs, by which some of the crew had fast- 
ened themselves to this spar, to prevent their being 
washed off by the waves. 

There was no trace by which the name of the ship 
could be ascertained. The wreck had evidently drifted 
about for many months ; clusters of shell-fish had fast- 
ened about it, and long sea-weeds flaunted at its sides. 
But where, thought I, are the crew ? Their struggle 



ANIMATION. PURE TONE. 39 

has long been over. They have gone down amidst 
the roar of the tempest. Their bones lie whitening 
among the caverns of the deep. Silence, oblivion, 
like the waves, have closed over them, and no one can 
tell the story of their end. 

What sighs have been wafted after that ship ! what 
prayers offered up at the deserted fireside of home ! 
How often has the wife, the mother, pored over the 
daily news, to catch some casual intelligence of this 
rover of the deep ! How has expectation darkened 
into anxiety, anxiety into dread, and dread into de- 
spair ! Alas ! not one memento shall ever return for 
love to cherish. All that shall ever be known is, that 
she sailed from her port, " and was never heard of 

more." 

Irving. 
10. TO A SKYLAEK. 

Hail to thee, blithe spirit ! — bird thou never wert — 
That from heaven, or near it, pourest thy full heart 
In profuse strains of unpremeditated art. 

Higher still, and higher, from the earth thou springest 
Like a cloud of fire ; the blue deep thou wingest 
And singing still dost soar, and soaring, ever singest. 

In the golden lightening of the sunken sun, 

O'er which clouds are brightening, thou dost float and run, 

Like an embodied joy whose race is just begun. 

The pale purple even melts around thy flight: 
Like a star of heaven in the broad daylight, 
Thou art unseen, but yet I hear thy shrill delight. 



40 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION, 

Keen as are the arrows of that silver sphere, 
Whose intense lamp narrows in the white dawn clear 
Until we hardly see, we feel that it is there. 

All the earth and air with thy voice is loud, 

As, when night is bare, from one lonely cloud 

The moon rains out her beams, and heaven is overflowed. 

What thou art we know not : what is most like thee ? 
From rainbow clouds there flow not drops so bright to see 
As from thy presence showers a rain of melody. 

Like a poet hidden in the light of thought, 
Singing hymns unbidden, till the world is wrought 
To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not. 

Like a high-born maiden in a palace tower, 
Soothing her love-laden soul in secret hour 
With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower. 

Like a glow-worm golden in a dell of dew, 

Scattering unbeholden its aerial hue 

Among the flowers and grass, which screen it from the view. 

Like a rose embowered in its own green leaves, 
By warm winds deflowered, till the scent it gives 
Makes faint with too much sw T eet these heavy-winged 
thieves. 

Sound of vernal showers on the twinkling grass, 

Rain-awakened flowers, all that ever was 

Joyous, and clear, and fresh, thy music doth surpass. 



ANIMATION. PURE TONE. 41 

Teach us, sprite or bird, what sweet thoughts are thine: 
I have never heard praise of love or wine 
That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine. 

Chorus hymeneal, or triumphal chant, 

Matched with thine would be all but an empty vaunt — 

A thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want. 

What objects are the fountains of thy happy strain ? 
What fields, or waves, or mountains ? what shapes of sky 

or plain ? 
What love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain? 

With thy clear keen joyance, languor cannot be : 
Shadow of annoyance never came near thee : 
Thou lovest ; but ne'er knew love's satiety. 

Waking or asleep, thou of death must deem 
Things more true and deep than we mortals dream, 
Or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal stream ? 

We look before and after, and pine for what is not : 

Our sincerest laughter with some pain is fraught : 

Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought. 

Yet if we could scorn hate, and pride, and fear; 

If we were things born not to shed a tear, 

I know not how thy joy we ever could come near. 

Better than all measures of delight and sound, 
Better than all treasures that in books are found, 
Thy skill to poet were, thou scorncr of the ground! 

4* 



42 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

Teach me half the gladness that thy brain must know, 
Such harmonious madness from my lips would flow, 
The world should listen then, as I am listening now. 

Shelley. 

11. CHEERFULNESS. 

A cheerful man is pre-eminently a useful man. He 
knows that there is much misery, but that misery is 
not the rule of life. lie sees that in every state people 
may be cheerful; the lambs skip, birds sing and fly 
joyously, puppies play, kittens are full of joyance, the 
whole air is full of careering and rejoicing insects, — 
that everywhere the good outbalances the bad, and 
that every evil that there is has its compensating 
balm. 

Then the brave man, as our German cousins say, 
possesses the world, whereas the melancholy man does 
not even possess his share of it. 

Exercise, or continued employment of some kind, 
will make a man cheerful ; but sitting at home, brood- 
ing and thinking, or doing little, will bring gloom. 
The reaction of this feeling is wonderful. It arises 
from a sense of duty done, and it also enables us to 
do our duty. 

Cheerful people live long in our memory. We re- 
member joy more readily than sorrow, and always look 
back with tenderness on the brave and cheerful. 

We can cultivate our tempers, and one of the em- 
ployments of some poor mortals is to cultivate, cher- 
ish, and bring to perfection, a thoroughly bad one; 



ANIMATION. PURE TONE. 43 

but we may be certain that to do so is a very great 
error and sin, which, like all others, brings its own 
punishment; though unfortunately it does not punish 
itself only. 

Addison says of cheerfulness, that it lightens sick- 
ness, poverty, affliction ; converts ignorance into an 
amiable simplicity, and renders deformity itself agree- 
able ; and he says no more than the truth. 

In Carlyle's words : 

" Wondrous is the strength of cheerfulness, alto- 
gether past calculation its powers of endurance. Ef- 
forts, to be permanently useful, must be uniformly 
joyous, a spirit all sunshine, graceful from very glad- 
ness, beautiful because bright." 

Such a spirit is within everybody's reach. Let us 
but get out into the light of things. The morbid man 
cries out that there is always wron°; in the world to . 
make a man miserable. Conceded; but wrong is ever 
being righted ; there is always enough that is good 
and right to make us joyful. 

There is ever sunshine somewhere; and the brave 
man will go on his w r ay rejoicing, content to look for- 
ward if under a cloud, not bating one jot of heart or 
hope if for a moment cast down ; honoring his occu- 
pation, whatever it may be; rendering even rags re- 
spectable by the way he wears them; and not only 
being happy himself, but causing the happiness of 
others. 

Friswell. 



PART II. 

ARTICULATION. 

Perhaps there is no fault among readers and speakers 
so general as imperfect articulation. The lips, the 
tongue, and the other organs of speech are for use ; if 
for any reason the training of these organs is neglected, 
the disposition is to slip over the words so that many of 
them, especially the minor ones, are either partially or 
wholly lost. 

The exercises here given should be carefully and 
slowly practised, every sound and syllable being exag- 
gerated. Let the teacher give the extracts and selec- 
tions aloud, the students accompanying her simply 
with the movement of the lips. Great care must be 
taken that every letter shall be formed so perfectly 
that the words may be clearly understood by the sim- 
ple motion of the organs of speech. Some may fear 
that the habit of exaggeration will remain after the 
exercises are stopped ; there is no danger of this, for 
while the increased clearness of enunciation will be 
decidedly apparent, any awkwardness acquired by the 
practice will soon disappear. 

EXTRACTS. 
1. Lovely art thou, Peace ! and lovely are thy 
children, and lovely are the prints of thy footsteps in 
the green valleys. 

44 



ARTICULATION. 45 

2. Not, my soul, what thou hast done, 
But what thou now art doing ; 
Not the course which thou hast run, 
But that which thou art pursuing ; 
Not the prize already won, 

But that which thou art wooing. 

Lombard. 

3. Truth, crushed to earth, shall rise again, 
The eternal years of God are hers; 
But error wounded writhes with pain, 
And dies amid his worshippers. 

Bryant. 

4. When, in the course of human events, it becomes 
necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands 
which have connected them with another, and to as- 
sume among the powers of the earth the separate and 
equal station to which the laws of nature and of 
nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the 
opinions of mankind requires that they should declare 
the causes which impel them to the separation. 

We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all 
men are created equal ; that they are endowed by their 
Creator with certain unalienable rights ; that, among 
these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. 

That, to secure these rights, governments are insti- 
tuted among men, deriving their just powers from the 
consent of the governed; that, whenever any form of 
government becomes destructive of these ends, it is 
the right of the people to alter or to abolish it, and to 



46 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

institute a new government, laying its foundation on 
such principles, and organizing its powers in such 
form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their 
safety and happiness. 

Prudence, indeed, will dictate that governments long 
established should not be changed for light or tran- 
sient causes; and, accordingly, all experience hath 
shown that mankind are more disposed to suffer, 
while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by 
abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. 
But, when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pur- 
suing invariably the same object, evinces a desire to 
reduce them under absolute despotism, it is their right, 
it is their duty, to throw off such government, and to 
provide new guards for their future security. 

Such has been the patient sufferance of these colo- 
nies, and such is now the necessity which constrains 
them to alter their former systems of government. 

Jefferson. 

5. Hail, holy Light, offspring of Heav'n first-born 
Or of th' Eternal coeternal beam, 
May I express thee unblamed? since God is light, 
And never but in unapproached light 
Dwelt from eternity, dwelt then in thee, 
Bright effluence of bright essence increate. 
Or hear'st thou rather, pure ethereal stream, 
Whose fountain who shall tell? Before the Sun, 
Before the Heav'ns thou wert, and at the voice 
Of God, as with a mantle, didst infest 
The rising world of waters dark and deep, 



AR TICULA TION. 4 7 

Won from the void and formless infinite. 

Thee I revisit now with bolder wing, 

Escaped the Stygian pool, though long detained 

In that obscure sojourn, while in my middle flight 

Through utter and through middle darkness borne, 

With other notes than to th' Orphean lyre, 

I sung of Chaos and eternal Night, 

Taught by the heav'nly Muse to venture down 

The dark descent, and up to re-ascend, 

Though hard and rare : thee I revisit safe, 

And feel thy sov'reign vital lamp : but thou 

Revisit'st not these eyes, that roll in vain 

To find thy piercing ray, and find no dawn ; 

So thick a drop serene hath quenched their orbs, 

Or dim suffusion veil'd. 

Milton. 

6. O scenes surpassing fable, and yet true, 

Scenes of accomplished bliss ! which who can see, 

Though but in distant prospect, and not feel 

His soul refreshed with foretaste of the joy ? 

Rivers. of gladness water all the earth, 

And clothe all climes with beauty ; the reproach 

Of barrenness is past. The fruitful field 

Laughs with abundance; and the land, once lean, 

Or fertile only in its own disgrace, 

Exults to see its thistly curse repealed. 

The various seasons w'oven into one, 

And that one season an eternal Spring, 

The garden fears no blight, and needs no fence, 

For there is none to covet, all are full. 

The lion, and the libbard, and the bear, 

Graze with the fearless flocks ; all bask at noon 



48 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

Together, or all gamble in the shade 
Of the same grove, and drink one common stream, 
Antipathies are none. No foe to man 
Lurks in the serpent now; the mother sees, 
And smiles to see, her infant's playful hand 
Stretch'd forth to dally with the crested worm, 
To stroke his azure neck, or to receive 
The lambent homage of his arrowy tongue. 
All creatures worship man, and all mankind 
- One Lord, one Father. Error has no place: 
That creeping pestilence is driven away ; 
The breath of Heaven has chafed it. 

In the heart 
No passion touches a discordant string, 
But all is harmony and love. Disease 
Is not: the pure and uncontaminate blood 
Holds its due course, nor fears the frost of age. 
One song employs all nations; and all cry, 
" Worthy the Lamb, for He was slain for us !" 
The dwellers in the vales and on the rocks 
Shout to each other, and the mountain tops 
From distant mountains, catch the flying joy ; 
Till nation after nation taught the strain, 
Earth rolls the rapturous Hosanna round. 
Behold the measure of the promise filled ; 
See Salem built, the labor of a God ! 
Bright as a sun the sacred city shines ; 
All kingdoms and all princes of the earth 
Flock to that light ; the glory of all lands 
Flows into her ; unbounded is her joy, 
And endless her increase. 

Cowper. 



ARTICULATION. 49 

SELECTIONS. 
1. ARRAIGNMENT OF CATILINE. 

How far, Catiline ! wilt thou abuse our patience? 
How long shalt thou baffle justice in thy mad career? 
To what extreme wilt thou carry thy audacity ? Art 
thou nothing daunted by the nightly watch, posted to 
secure the Palatium ? Nothing, by the city guards ? 
Nothing, by the rally of all good citizens ? Nothing, 
by the assembling of the Senate in this fortified place ? 
Nothing, by the averted looks of all here present ? 

Seest thou not that all thy plots are exposed ? — that 
thy wretched conspiracy is laid bare to the knowledge 
of every man here in the Senate ? — that we are well 
aware of thy proceedings of last night; of the night 
before ; the place of meeting, the company convoked, 
the measures concerted ? 

O, the times ! O, the morals of the times ! The Sen- 
ate understand all this. The Consul sees it. And yet 
the traitor lives ! Lives ? Ay, truly, and confronts us 
here in council, — presumes to take part in our deliber- 
ations, — and with his calculating eye marks out each 
man of us for slaughter ! And we, the while, think 
we have amply discharged our duty to the State if we 
do but succeed in warding off this madman's sword 
and fury ! 

Long since, O Catiline ! ought the Consul to have 
ordered thee to execution, and brought upon thy own 
head the destruction thou hast been plotting against 
others ! There was in Rome that virtue once, that a 



50 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

wicked citizen was held more execrable than the dead- 
liest foe. For thee, Catiline, we have still a law. 
Think not, because we are forbearing, that we are 
powerless. 

We have a statute, — though it rests among our ar- 
chives like a sword in its scabbard, — a statute which 
makes thy life the forfeit of thy crimes. And, should 
I order thee to be instantly seized and put to death, I 
do not doubt that all good men would say that the 
punishment, instead of being too cruel, was only too 
long deferred. 

But, for sufficient reasons, I will awhile postpone 
the blow. Then will I doom thee, when no man is to 
be found, so lost to reason, so depraved, so like thy- 
self, that he will not admit the sentence was deserved. 
"While there is one man who ventures to defend thee, 
live! 

But thou shalt live so beset, so hemmed in, so 
watched, by the vigilant guards I have placed around 
thee, that thou shalt not stir a foot against the Repub- 
lic without my knowledge. There shall be eyes to 
detect thy slightest movement, and ears to catch thy 
wariest whisper. Thou shalt be seen and heard when 
thou dost not dream of a witness near. The darkness 
of night shall not cover thy treason; the walls of 
privacy shall not stifle its voice. 

Baffled on all sides, thy most secret projects clear as 
noonday, what canst thou now devise ? Proceed, plot, 
conspire, as thou wilt ; there is nothing thou canst con- 
trive, propose, attempt, which I shall not promptly be 



ARTICULATION. 51 

made aware of. Thou shalt soon be convinced that 
I am even more active in providing for the preserva- 
tion of the State than thou in plotting its destruction ! 

Cicero. 

2. ADDRESS TO THE MUMMY IN BELZONI'S EXHI- 
BITION. 

And thou hast walk'd about (how strange a story!) 
In Thebes's streets, three thousand years ago, 

When the Memnonium was in all its glory, 
And time had not begun to overthrow 

Those temples, palaces, and piles stupendous, 

Of which the very ruins are tremendous ! 

Speak! for thou long enough hast acted dummy ; 

Thou hast a tongue, come, let us hear its tune ; 
Thou'rt standing on thy legs above ground, mummy ! 

Kevisiting the glimpses of the moon. 
Not like thin ghosts or disembodied creatures, 
But with thy bones and flesh, and limbs and features. 

Tell us — for doubtless thou canst recollect — 
To whom should we ascribe the Sphinx's fame ? 

Was Cheops or Cephrenes architect 

Of either pyramid that bears his name ? 

Is Pompey's Pillar really a misnomer? 

Had Thebes a hundred gates, as sung by Homer ? 

Perhaps thou wert a mason, and forbidden 
By oath to tell the secrets of thy trade : 

Then say, what secret melody w T as hidden 
In Memnon's statue, which at sunrise play'd? 

Perhaps thou wert a priest : if so, my struggles 

Are vain, for priestcraft never owns its juggles. 



52 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

Perchance that very hand, now pinion'd flat, 
Has hob-a-nobb'd with Pharaoh, glass to glass, 

Or dropp'd a half-penny in Homer's hat, 
Or doff'd thine own to let Queen Dido pass, 

Or held, by Solomon's own invitation, 

A torch at the great Temple's dedication. 

I need not ask thee if that hand, when arm'd, 
Has any Roman soldier maul'd and knuckled, 

For thou wert dead, and buried, and embalm'd, 
Ere Romulus and Remus had been suckled : 

Antiquity appears to have begun 

Long after thy primeval race was run. 

Thou couldst develop, if that wither'd tongue 

Might tell us what those sightless orbs have seen, 

How the world look'd when it was fresh and young, 
And the great deluge still had left it green ; 

Or was it then so old that history's pages 

Contain'd no record of its early ages? 

Still silent, incommunicative elf! 

Art sworn to secrecy? then keep thy vows ; 
But prithee tell us something of thyself! 

Reveal the secrets of thy prison-house ; 
Since in the world of spirits thou hast slumber'd, 
What hast thou seen, — what strange adventures num- 
ber'd ? 

Since first thy form was in this box extended, 

We have, above ground, seen some strange mutations; 

The Roman empire has begun and ended, 

New worlds have risen, — we have lost old nations, 



ARTICULATION. 53 

And countless kings have into dust been humbled, 
Whilst not a fragment of thy flesh has crumbled. 

Did thou not hear the pother o'er thy head, 
When the great Persian conqueror, Cambyses, 

Marched armies o'er thy tomb with thundering tread, 
O'erthrew Osiris, Orus, Apis, Isis, 

And shook the pyramids with fear and wonder, 

When the gigantic Memnon fell asunder? 

If the tomb's secrets may not be confess'd, 

The nature of thy private life unfold : 
A heart has throbb'd beneath that leathern breast, 

And tears adown that dusky cheek have roll'd : 
Have children climbed those knees and kissed that 

face? 
What was thy name and station, age and race ? 

Statue of flesh — immortal of the dead! 

Imperishable type of evanescence ! 
Posthumous man, who quitt'st thy narrow bed 

And standest undecayed within our presence, 
Thou wilt hear nothing till the judgment morning, 
When the great trump shall fill thee with its warning. 

Why should this worthless tegument endure, 

If its undying guest be lost forever ? 
Oh, let us keep the soul embalm'd and pure 

In living virtue, that, when both must sever, 

Although corruption may our frame consume, 

The immortal spirit in the skies may bloom. 

Smith. 

5* 



54 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

3. THE NATURE OF TRUE ELOQUENCE. 

True eloquence does not consist in speech. It can- 
not be brought from far. Labor and learning may 
toil for it, but they will toil in vain. Words and 
phrases maybe marshalled in every way, but they can- 
not compass it. It must exist in the man, in the sub- 
ject, and in the occasion. Affected passion, intense 
expression, the pomp of declamation, all may aspire 
after it, — they cannot reach it. It comes, if it comes 
at all, like the outbreaking of a fountain from the 
earth, or the bursting forth of volcanic tires, with 
spontaneous, original, native force. The graces taught 
in the schools, the costly ornaments and studied con- 
trivances of speech, shock and disgust men, when 
their own lives, and the fate of their wives, their chil- 
dren, and their country hang on the decision of the 
hour. Then words have lost their power, rhetoric is 
vain, and all elaborate oratory contemptible. Even 
genius itself then feels rebuked and subdued, as in the 
presence of higher qualities. Then patriotism is elo- 
quent; then self-devotion is eloquent. The clear con- 
ception, outrunning the deductions of logic, the high 
purpose, the firm resolve, the dauntless spirit, speaking 
on the tongue, beaming from the eye, informing every 
feature, and urging the whole man onward, right on- 
ward, to his object, — this, this is eloquence ; or, rather, 
it is something greater and higher than all eloquence : 
it is action, noble, sublime action. 

Webster. 



ARTICULATION. 55 



4. GOD. 



O Thou eternal one ! whose presence bright 
All space doth occupy, all motion guide, — 

Unchanged through Time's all-devastating flight! 
Thou only God, — there is no God beside! 

Being above all beings! Mighty One, 

Whom none can comprehend, and none explore, 

Who fillest existence with Thyself alone, — 
Embracing all, supporting, ruling o'er, — 
Being whom we call God and know no more! 

Thou from primeval nothingness didst call 

First chaos, then existence, — Lord ! in Thee 
Eternity had its foundation ; all 

Sprung forth from Thee, — of light, joy, harmony, 
Sole Origin, — all life, all beauty Thine: 

Thy word created all, and doth create ; 

Thou art, and wert, and shalt be ! Glorious ! Great ! 

Life-giving, life-sustaining Potentate ! 

Derzhaven. 

5. EDINBURGH. 

Edinburgh is the most picturesque city in Europe, 
as it is cleft in twain by a deep gorge or ravine, on 
either side of which the two divisions of the city, the 
Old Town and the New Town, stand facing each 
other. From the Royal Hotel, w^here we are, in Prin- 
cess Street, just opposite the beautiful monument to 
Walter Scott, we look across this gorge to long ranges 
of buildings in the Old Town, some of w^hich are ten 
stories high ; and to the Castle, lifted in air four hun- 



56 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

drecl feet by a cliff that rears its rocky front from the 
valley below, its top girt round with walls, and frowning 
with batteries. What associations cluster about those 
heights ! For hundreds of years, even before the date 
of authentic history, that has been a military strong- 
hold. It has been besieged asniin and a°;ain. Crom- 
well tried to take it, but its battlements of rock proved 
inaccessible even to his Ironsides. There, in a little 
room hardly bigger than a closet, Mary Queen of 
Scots gave birth to a prince, who when but eight days 
old was let down in a basket from the cliff, that the 
life so precious to two kingdoms as that of the sov- 
ereign in whom Scotland and England were to be 
united might not perish by murderous hands. And 
there is St. Giles' Cathedral, where John Knox thun- 
dered, and where James VI., when chosen to be James 
I. of England, took leave of his Scottish subjects. 

At the other end of Edinburgh is Holyrood Castle, 
whose chief interest is from its association with the 
mother of James, the beautiful but ill-fated Mary. 
How all that history, stranger than any romance, 
comes back again, as we stand on the very spot where 
she stood when she was married ; and pass through the 
rooms in which she lived, and see the very bed on which 
she slept, unconscious of the doom that was before her, 
and trace all the surroundings of her most romantic 
and yet most tragic history. Such are some of the 
associations which gather around Edinburgh. 

Field. 



PART III. 

SLIDES AND INFLECTIONS. 

In good reading, we shall find that the voice has a 
tendency to rise and fall. It therefore follows that 
perfect control must be gained over it, so that it shall 
obey implicitly the mandates of the will. Very few 
rules, if any, can be made; as, if the subject-matter 
be really entered into, the slides will take care of 
themselves. This is true unless, as we have hinted, 
the early training has been so defective that stilted or 
unnatural inflections have been acquired. We have 
felt therefore that some space must be given to this 
class of exercises. 

EXTRACTS. 

FALLING INFLECTIONS. 

1. There is nothing like fun, N is there ? v I haven't 
any myself, but I do like it in others/ O, we neecV it. 
"We need all the counterweights we can muster to bal- 
ance the sad relations of life/ God has made sunny 
spots in the heart; w T hy should we exclude the light 
from them ? r 

2. Awake, O King, the gates unsparP 
Eise up and ride both fast and farP 
The sea flows over bolt and bmO 

57 



58 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

3. Ye crags and peaks, I'm with* you once again/ 
I hold to you the hands you first beheld, 
To show they still are free/ Met h inks I hear 
A spirit in your echoes answer me, 
And bid your tenant welcome home again ! v 

Knowles. 

4. Righteousness exalteth a nation/ but sin is a re- 
proach to any people/ 

Bible. 

5. Go to the ant/ thou sluggard ! consider her ways 

and be wise/ 

Bible. 

6. I dwell, where I would ever dwell, in the hearts 

of my people/ It is written in yoxxv faces, that I reign 

not more over you* than within you/ The foundation 

of my throne is not more pow r er than love/ 

Wirt. 

RISING INFLECTIONS. 

1. Ashamed to toil, art thou?' Ashamed of thy 
dingy workshop' and dustj^ labor field/ of thy hard 
hand/ scarred with service more honorable than that 
of war/ of thy soiled and weather-stained garments/ 
on w r hich Mother Nature has embroidered, 'mid sun 
and rain/ 'mid fire and steam/ her own heraldic 
honors? 7 Ashamed of these tokens and titles/ and 
envious of the flaunting robes of imbecile idleness and 
vanity V 

Dewey. 



SLIDES AND INFLECTIONS. 59 

2. Is this the part of wise men/ engaged in a great 
and arduous struggle for liberty ?' Are we disposed 
to be of the number of those, who/ having eyes, see 
not/ and having ears, hear not/ the things which so 
nearly concern their temporal salvation ?' 

3. They tell us that we are weak/ — unable to cope 
with so formidable an adversary. But w T hen shall we 
be stronger? Will it be the next week/ or the next 
year ?' Will it be when we are totally disarmed/ and a 
British guard is stationed in every house ?' Shall we 
gather strength by irresolution and inaction ?' Shall 
we acquire the means of effectual resistance by lying 
supinely on our backs/ and hugging the delusive phan- 
tom of hope/ until our enemies shall have bound us 
hand and foot ?' 

Henry. 

RISING AND FALLING INFLECTIONS. 

1. Sink 7 or swim/ live' or die/ survive 7 or perish/ 
I give my hand' and my heart x to this vote/ 

2. Do you think your hands were made to strike V 
No/ To push?' No/ To pinch?' No/ To tight?' 
No/ To take things that do not belong to you ?' By 



3. « Will they do it ?" ' " Dare they do it ?" ' 

" Who is speaking ?" r " What's the news ?" y 
What of Adams ?" x " What of Sherman ?" v 
" Oh 1 God grant they won't refuse." * 



60 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

4. See!' see!' the dense crowd quivers 

Through all its lengthy line, 
As the boy beside the portal 

Looks forth to give the sign ; v 
With his little hands uplifted/ 

Breezes dallying with his hair. 
Hark!' with deep, clear intonation 

Breaks his young voice on the air/ 

Hushed the people's swelling murmur/ 

List the boy's exulting cry V 
"Ring!"' he shouts, ''ring!' grandpa/ 

Ring!' oh, ring' for Liberty !" v 
Quickly at the given signal 

The old bellman lifts his hand, 
Forth' he sends the good news, making 

Iron music through the land/ 

5. We live in deeds/ not years/ in thoughts/ not breaths/ 
In feelings/ not in figures on a dial/ 
We should count time by heart throbs.' He most lives 
Who thinks most/ feels the noblest/ acts the best/ 

Bailey. 

6. Shut now the volume of history/ and tell me, on 
any principle of human probability/ what shall be 
the fate of this handful of adventurers. r Tell me/ 
man of military science/ in how many months w r ere 
they all swept off by the thirty savage tribes enumer- 
ated within the boundaries of New England ? v Tell 
me/ politician/ how long did this shadow of a colony, 
on which your conventions had not smiled, languish on 
the distant coast ? N Student of history/ compare for 



SLIDES AND INFLECTIONS. 61 

me the baffled projects/ the deserted settlements/ the 
abandoned adventurers of other times/ and find a 
parallel of this/ 

Was it the winter's storm/ beating upon the house- 
less heads of women and children?' was it hard labor 
and spare meals V was it disease V was it the toma- 
hawk V was it the deep malady of a blighted hope/ 
a ruined enterprise/ and a broken heart/ aching in 
its last moments at the recollection of the loved and 
left beyond the sea? 7 — was it some/ or all of these 
united/ that hurried this forsaken company to their 
melancholy fate V And is it possible that neither of 
these causes/ that not all combined were able to blast 
this bud of hope V Is it possible that/ from a begin- 
ning so feeble/ so frail/ so worthy not so much of 
admiration as of pity/ there have gone forth a prog- 
ress so steady/ a growth so wonderful/ a reality so 
important/ a promise/ yet to be fulfilled, so glorious ? x 

Everett. 

CIRCUMFLEX INFLECTIONS. 

1. None dared withstand him to his face, 
But one sly maiden spake aside : 
" The little maid is evil-eyed ! 
Her mother only killed a cow, 
Or witched a churn or dairy-pan ; 
But she, forsooth, must charm a man !" 

Whittier. 

2. The common error is to resolve to act right after 
breakfast, or after dinner, or to-morrow morning, or 

6 



62 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

the next time ; but now, just now, this once, we must 
go on the same as ever. 

3. If you said so, then I said so. 0, fio ! did 
you say so? So they shook hands and were sworn 
brothers. 

4. ! but you regrStted the partition of Poland ! 
Yes, regretted ! — you regretted the violence and that 

is all you did. 

TACT AND TALENT. 

Adapted. 

Talent is something/ but tact is everything/ Talent 
is serious/ sober/ grave/ and respectable/ tact is all 
that 7 and more too/ It is not a sixth sense, but it is 
the life of all five/ It is the open eye/ the quick 
ear/ the judging taste/ the keen smell/ and the lively 
touch/ it is the interpreter of all riddles/ the sur- 
mounter of all difficulties/ the remover of all ob- 
stacles/ It is useful in all places/ and at all times/ 
it is useful in solitude/ for it shows a man his way 
into the world/ it is useful in society/ for it shows 
him his way through the world/ 

Talent is power/ tact is skill / talent is weight/ 
tact is momentum / talent knows what to do/ tact 
knows how to do it/ talent makes a man respectable/ 
tact makes him respected/ talent is wealth/ tact is 
ready money/ 



SLIDES AND INFLECTIONS. 63 

For all the practical purposes of life, tact carries 
weight against talent, ten to one/ . . . 

Take them to the bar/ and let them shake their 
learned curls at each other in legal rivalry/ — talent 
sees its way clearly, but tact is first at its journey's 
end/ Talent has many a compliment from the bench, 
but tact touches fees from attorneys and clients. 
Talent speaks learnedly and logically, tact triumph- 
antly. Talent makes the world wonder that it gets on 
no faster, tact excites astonishment that it gets on so 
fast. And the secret is that tact has no weight to 
carry / it makes no false steps / it hits the right nail 
on the head/ it loses no time / it takes no hints/ 
and, by keeping its eye on the weathercock, is ready 
to take advantage of every wind that blows/ . . . 

Place them in the senate/ — talent has the ear of 
the House/ but tact wins the heart/ and has the 
votes/ talent is fit' for employment, but tact is fitted 
for it. Tact has a knack of slipping into place with 
a sweet silence and glibness of movement/ It seems 
to know everything/ without learning anything/ It 
has served an invisible and extemporary apprentice- 
ship/ it wants no dwelling/ it never ranks in the 
awkward squad / it has no left hand/ no deaf ear/ 
no blind side/ It puts on no look of wondrous wis- 
dom/ it has no air of profundity/ but plays with 
the details of place as dexterously as a well- taught 
hand/ . . . 

It has all the air of commonplace, and all the force 
and power of ge v nius. 



PART IV. 

STRESS. OROTUND. 

In close connection with the exercises in Articula- 
tion come those in Stress and Orotund. In order 
that power may be attained, great care must be taken 
in enunciation. The voice of the public speaker must 
proceed directly from the chest, round and full. He 
must so train his organs of speech that he can use 
loud or soft tones, that he can speak slowly or rapidly, 
and in all the varying moods be perfectly understood 
in every part of the room in which he is performing. 

Rhetoricians ask that we write, not so that we may 
be understood, but so that we must be understood. 
Does not this rule apply equally well to speakers and 
readers ? Should they not speak and read in such a 
way that we may never be obliged to guess at the 
meaning, but that at all times we shall be impressed 
with the feeling that they say just what they mean, 
and are full believers in its sentiments ? 

EXTRACTS. 

1. Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean — roll! 
Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain ; 
Man marks the earth with ruin — his control 
Stops with the shore ; — upon the watery plain 
64 



STRESS. OROTUND. 65 

The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain 
A shadow of man's ravage, save his own, 

When for a moment, like a drop of rain, 
He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan, 
Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown. 

Byron. 

2. Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee : — 

Assyria, Greece, Eome, Carthage, what are they? 
Thy waters wasted them while they were free, 
And many a tyrant since ; their shores obey 
The stranger, slave, or savage ; their decay 
Has dried up realms to deserts : not so thou ; 

Unchangeable save to thy wild waves' play- 
Time writes no wrinkle on thy azure brow — 
Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now. 

Byron. 

3. Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form 

Glasses itself in tempests ; in all time, 
Calm or convulsed — in breeze or gale or storm, 
Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime 
Dark-heaving ; — boundless, endless, and sublime — 
The image of Eternity — the throne 

Of the Invisible ; even from out thy slime 
The monsters of the deep are made ; each zone 
Obeys thee: thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone. 

Byron. 

4. Ay ! gloriously thou standest there, 
Beautiful, boundless firmament! 
That, swelling wide o'er earth and air, 
And round the horizon bent, 

e 6* 



66 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

With thy bright vault and sapphire wall 
Dost overhang; and circle all. 



Far, far below thee, tall gray trees 

Arise, and piles built up of old, 
And hills, whose ancient summits freeze 

In the fierce light and cold. 
The eagle soars his utmost height, 
Yet far thou stretchest o'er his flight. 

Thou hast thy frowns : with thee on high 
The storm has made his airy seat; 

Beyond that soft blue curtain lie 
His stores of hail and sleet ; 

Thence the consuming lightnings break, 

There the strong hurricanes awake. 

Yet thou art prodigal of smiles, — 

Smiles sweeter than thy frowns are stern ; 

Earth sends, from all her thousand isles, 
A shout at their return. 

The glory that comes down from thee 

Bathes in deep joy the land and sea. 

The sun, the glorious sun, is thine, 

The pomp that brings and shuts the day, 

The clouds that round him change and shine, 
The airs that fan his way. 

Thence look the thoughtful stars, and there 

The meek moon walks the silent air. 

Bryant. 



STRESS. OROTUND. 67 

5. Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State! 
Sail on, O Union, strong and great! 
Humanity with all its fears, 
With all the hopes of future years, 
Is hanging breathless on thy fate ! 
We know what Master laid thy keel, 
What Workman wrought thy ribs of steel, 
Who made each mast, and sail, and rope, 
What anvils rang, what hammers beat, 
In what a forge and what a heat 
Were shaped the anchors of thy hope! 
Fear not each sudden sound and shock, 
'Tis of the wave and not the rock ; 
'Tis but the flapping of the sail, 
And not a rent made by the gale ! 
In spite of rock and tempest's roar, 
In spite of false lights on the shore, 
Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea ! 
Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee, 
Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears, 
Our faith triumphant o'er our fears, 
Are all with thee, — are all with thee ! 

Longfellow. 

SELECTIONS. 

1. HYMN TO MONT BLANC. 

Hast thou a charm to stay the morning- star 
In his steep course ? So long he seems to pause 
On thy bald awful head, O sovran Blanc! 
The Arve and Arveiron at thy base 
Eave ceaselessly ; but thou, most awful Form ! 
Eisest from forth thy silent sea of pines, 



68 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

How silently ! Around thee and above 
Deep is the air, and dark, substantial, black, 
An ebon mass : methinks thou piercest it, 
As with a wedge! But when I look again, 
It is thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine, 
Thy habitation from eternity! 

dread and silent Mount ! I gazed upon thee, 
Till thou, still present to the bodily sense, 

Didst vanish from my thought: entranced in prayer, 

1 worshipped the Invisible alone. 

Yet, like some sweet beguiling melody, 

So sweet, we know not we are listening to it, 

Thou, the meanwhile, wast blending with my thought, 

Yea, with my life and life's own secret joy: 

Till the dilating Soul, enrapt, transfused, 

Into the mighty vision passing — there, 

As in her natural form, swelled vast to Heaven ! 

Awake, my Soul ! not only passive praise 

Thou owest ! not alone these swelling tears, 

Mute thanks and secret ecstasy! Awake, 

Voice of sweet song! Awake, my Heart, awake! 

Green vales and icy cliffs, all join my Hymn. 

Thou first and chief, sole Sovran of the Vale! 
O struggling with the darkness all the night, 
And visited all night by troops of stars, 
Or when they climb the sky or when they sink : 
Companion of the morning-star at dawn, 
Thyself Earth's rosy star, and of the dawn 
Co-herald : awake, O wake, and utter praise ! 
Who sank thy sunless pillars deep in Earth ? 
Who filled thy countenance with rosy light? 



STRESS. OROTUND. 69 

Who made thee parent of perpetual streams? 

And you, ye five wild torrents fiercely glad ! 

Who called you forth from night and utter death, 

From dark and icy caverns called you forth, 

Down those precipitous, black, jagged rocks, 

Forever shattered and the same forever? 

Who gave you your invulnerable life, 

Your strength, your speed, your fury, and your joy, 

Unceasing thunder and eternal foam ? 

And who commanded (and the silence came), 

Here let the billows stiffen, and have rest ? 

Ye ice-falls ! ye that from the mountain's brow 
Adown enormous ravines slope amain — 
Torrents, methinks, that heard a mighty voice, 
And stopped at once amid their maddest plunge ! 
Motionless torrents ! silent cataracts I 
Who made you glorious as the gates of Heaven 
Beneath the keen full moon ? Who bade the sun 
Clothe you with rainbows? Who, with living flowers 
Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet? — 
God ! let the torrents, like a shout of nations, 
Answer! and let the ice-plains echo, God! 
God ! sing ye meadow-streams with gladsome voice ! 
Ye pine-groves, with your soft and soul-like sounds! 
And they too have a voice, yon piles of snow, 
And in their perilous fall shall thunder God! 

Ye living flowers that skirt the eternal frost ! 
Ye wild goats sporting round the eagle's nest! 
Ye eagles, playmates of the mountain-storm ! 
Ye lightnings, the dread arrows of the clouds! 



70 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

Ye signs and wonders of the element! 

Utter forth God, and fill the hills with praise! 

Thou too, hoar Mount ! with thy sky-pointing peaks, 
Oft from whose feet the avalanche, unheard, 
Shoots downward, glittering through the pure serene 
Into the depth of clouds, that veil thy breast — 
Thou too again, stupendous Mountain! thou 
That as I raise my head, awhile bowed low 
In adoration, upward from thy base 
Slow travelling with dim eyes suffused with tears, 
Solemnly seemest, like a vapory cloud, 
To rise before me — Rise, O ever rise, 
Rise like a cloud of incense from the Earth ! 
Thou kingly Spirit throned among the hills, 
Thou dread ambassador from Earth to Heaven, 
Great hierarch ! tell thou the silent sky, 
And tell the stars, and tell yon rising sun, 
Earth, with her thousand voices, praises God. 

Coleridge. 

2. ROME AND CARTHAGE. 

Rome and Carthage ! — behold them drawing near 
for the struggle that is to shake the world ! Carthage, 
the metropolis of Africa, is the mistress of oceans, of 
kingdoms, and of nations ; a magnificent city, bur- 
dened with opulence, radiant with the strange arts 
and trophies of the East. She is at the acme of her 
civilization. She can mount no higher. Any change 
now must be a decline. Rome is comparatively poor. 
She has seized all within her grasp, but rather from 
the lust of conquest than to fill her own coffers. 



STRESS. OROTUND. 71 

She is semi-barbarous, and has her education and 
her fortune both to make. All is before her, — nothing 
behind. For a time, these two nations exist in view 
of each other. The one reposes in the noontide of 
her splendor; the other waxes strong in the shade. 
But, little by little, air and space are wanting to each 
for her development. Rome begins to perplex Car- 
thage, and Carthage is an eye-sore to Rome. Seated 
on opposite banks of the Mediterranean, the two cities 
look each other in the face. The sea no longer keeps 
them apart. Europe and Africa weigh upon each 
other. Like two clouds surcharged with electricity 
they impend. With their contact must come the 
thunder-shock. 

The final event of this stupendous drama is at hand. 
What actors are met ! Two races, — that of merchants 
and mariners, that of laborers and soldiers ; two na- 
tions, — the one dominant by gold, the other by steel; 
two republics, — the one theocratic, the other aristo- 
cratic, — Rome and Carthage ! Rome with her army, 
Carthage with her fleet, — Carthage, old, rich, and 
crafty, — Rome, young, poor, and robust. The past 
and the future ; the spirit of discovery and the spirit 
of conquest; the genius of commerce, the demon of 
war; the East and the South on one side, the West 
and the North on the other ; in short, two worlds, — 
the civilization of Africa and the civilization of Eu- 
rope. They measure each other from head to foot. 
They gather all their forces. Gradually the war kin- 
dles. The world takes fire. 



72 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

These colossal powers are locked in deadly strife. 
Carthage has crossed the Alps ; Rome the seas. The 
two nations, personified in two men, Hannibal and 
Scipio, close with each other, wrestle, and grow infu- 
riate. The duel is desperate. It is a struggle for life. 
Rome wavers. She utters that cry of anguish, — Han- 
nibal at the gates! But she rallies, — collects all her 
strength for one last, appalling effort, — throws herself 
upon Carthage, and sweeps her from the face of the 
earth ! 

Hugo. 
3. EMBLEMS OF LIBERTY IN NATURE. 

Ye crags and peaks, I'm with you once again ! 

I hold to you the hands you first beheld, 

To show they still are free. Methinks I hear 

A spirit in your echoes answer me, 

And bid your tenant welcome to his home 

Again ! O sacred forms, how proud you look ! 

How high you lift your heads into the sky ! 

How huge you are, how mighty, and how free! 

Ye are the things that tower, that shine; whoso smile 

Makes glad — whose frown is terrible; whose forms, 

Robed or unrobed, do all the impress wear 

Of awe divine. Ye guards of liberty, 

I'm with you once again ! — I call to you 

AVith all my voice ! — I hold my hands to you, 

To show they still are free. I rush to you 

As though I could embrace you! 

Scaling yonder peak, 
I saw an eagle wheeling near its brow, 
O'er the abyss. His broad expanded wings 



STRESS. OROTUND. 73 

Lay calm and motionless upon the air, 

As if he floated there without their aid, 

By the sole act of his unlorded will, 

That buoy'd him proudly up. Instinctively 

I bent my bow ; j^et kept he rounding still 

His airy circle, as in the delight 

Of measuring the ample range beneath 

And round about; absorb'd, he heeded not 

The death that threaten'd him. I could not shoot — 

'Twas Liberty ! I turn'd my bow aside ; 

And let him soar away ! 

With what pride I used 

To walk these hills, and look up to my God, 
And think the land was free. Yes, it was free — 

From end to end, from cliff to lake, 'twas free — 
Free as our torrents are that leap our rocks 
And plough our valleys without asking leave ; 
Or as our peaks that wear their caps of snow 
In very presence of the regal sun. 
How happy was I then ! I loved 
Its very storms. Yes, I have often sat 
In my boat at night, when midway o'er the lake — 
The stars went out, and down the mountain gorge 
The wind came roaring. I have sat and eyed 
The thunder breaking from his cloud, and smiled 
To see him shake his lightnings o'er my head, 
And think I had no master save his own. 
— On the wild jutting clift, o'ertaken oft 
By the mountain blast, I've laid me flat along; 
And while gust follow'd gust more furiously, 
As if to sweep me o'er the horrid brink, 
Then I have thought of other lands, whose storms 
d 7 



74 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

Are summer flaws to those of mine, and just 

Have wish'd me there; the thought that mine was free 

Has eheck'd that wish ; and I have raised my head, 

And cried in thraldom to that furious wind, 

Blow on ! This is the land of liberty ! 

Knowles. 

4. KILIMANDJARO. 

Hail to thee, monarch of African mountains, 
Remote, inaccessible, silent and lone — 
Who, from the heart of the tropical fervors, 
Liftest to heaven thine alien snows, 
Feeding forever the fountains that make thee 
Father of Nile and Creator of Egypt. 

The years of the world are engraved on thy forehead, 

Time's morning blushed red on thy first fallen snows; 

Yet, lost in the wilderness, nameless, unnoted, 

Of Man unbeholden, thou wert not till now. 

Knowledge alone is the being of Nature, 

Giving a soul to her manifold features, 

Lighting through paths of the primitive darkness 

The footsteps of Truth and the vision of Song. 

Knowledge has born thee anew to Creation, 

And long-baffled Time at the baptism rejoices. 

Take, then, a name, and be filled with existence, 

Yea, be exultant in sovereign glory, 

While from the pen of the wandering poet 

Drops the first garland of song at thy feet. 

Floating alone, on the flood of thy making, 
Through Africa's mystery, silence, and fire, 



STRESS. OROTUND. 75 

Lo ! in my palm, like the Eastern enchanter, 
I dip from the waters a magical mirror, 
And thou art revealed to my purified vision. 
I see thee, supreme in the midst of thy co-mates, 
Standing alone 'twixt the Earth and the Heavens, 
Heir of the sunset and Herald of Morn. 

Zone above zone, to thy shoulders of granite, 

The climates of Earth are displayed, as an index, 

Giving the scope of the Book of Creation. 

There, in the gorges that widen, descending 

From cloud and from cold into summer eternal, 

Gather the threads of the ice-gendered fountains — 

Gather to riotous torrents of crystal ' 

And, giving each shelvy recess where they dally 

The blooms of the North and its evergreen turfage, 

Leap to the land of the lion and lotus ! 

There, in the wondering airs of the tropics, 

Shivers the Aspen, still dreaming of cold ; 

There stretches the Oak, from the loftiest ledges, 

His arms to the far-away lands of his brothers, 

And the Pine-tree looks down on his rival, the Palm. 

Bathed in the tenderest purple of distance, 

Tinted and shadowed by pencils of air, 

Thy battlements hang o'er the slopes and the forests, 

Seats of the gods in the limitless ether, 

Looming sublimely aloft and afar. 

Above them, like folds of imperial ermine, 

Sparkle the snow-fields that furrow thy forehead, 

Desolate realms, inaccessible, silent, 

Chasms and caverns where Day is a stranger, 



76 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

Garners where storeth his treasures the Thunder, 
The Lightning his falchion, his arrows the Hail! 

Sovereign Mountain, thy brothers give welcome; 

They, the baptized and crowned of ages, 

Watch-towers of Continents, altars of Earth, 

Welcome thee now to their mighty assembly. 

Mont Blanc, in the roar of his mad avalanches, 

Hails thy accession ; superb Orizaba, 

Belted with beech and ensandalled with palm; 

Chimborazo, the lord of the regions of noonday, 

Mingle their songs in magnificent chorus 

With greeting august from the Pillars of Heaven, 

Who, in the urns of the Indian Ganges, 

Filter the snows of their sacred dominions, 

Unmarked with a foot-print, unseen but of God. 

Lo! unto each is the seal of his lordship, 

Nor questioned the right that his majesty giveth, 

Each in his awful supremacy forces 

Worship and reverence, wonder and joy. 

Absolute all, yet in dignity varied, 

None has a claim to the honors of story, 

Or the superior splendors of song, 

Greater than thou, in thy mystery mantled, 

Thou, the sole monarch of African mountains, 

Father of Nile and Creator of Egypt, 

Taylor. 



PART V. 

ASPIRATE AND HALF ASPIRATE. 

Very few selections are to be found in which even 
an entire paragraph, or stanza, requires pure breath, 
but in order to render our collection somewhat com- 
plete, it seems desirable that some exercises of this 
character should be presented. 

If the breath be managed correctly, and the articu- 
lation be good, the speaker should be able to make 
himself heard for a long distance even, although only 
pure breath is used. 

The exercises may be practised first mute and then 
with breath only, and later using the aspirate where it 
is especially effective. This last must, however, be 
left to the discretion of the teacher, as it is impossible 
to give definite instructions for each word or line. 

EXTRACTS. 

1. All heaven and earth are still, — though not in sleep, 
But breathless, as we grow when feeling most; 
And silent, as we stand in thoughts too deep. 

2. 'Tis midnight's holy hour, and silence now 

Is brooding, like a gentle spirit, o'er 

The still and pulseless world 

Prentiss. 

7* 77 



'8 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

3. Still night; — and the old church bell hath tolled, 

With swinging peal, the passing hour, — 
Dolorous now, as it tolled of old 

From the heart of its quarried tower; 
And it seems to say, 
As it dies away, — 
The brazen clang of the tremulous bell. — 
" Old — old, weary and old : — 
The heart grows old, for the world is cold," — 
Solemnly sighs the far-spent bell. 

4. All things are hushed, as Nature's self lay dead. 
The mountains seem to nod their drowsy head ; 
The little birds in dreams their songs repeat, 

And sleeping flowers beneath the night dews sweat. 

Drtden. 



5. All silent they went, for the time was approaching, 
The moon the blue zenith already was touching; 
No foot was abroad on the forest or hill, 
No sound but the lullaby sung by the rill. 

6. Night, sable goddess, from her ebon throne, 
In rayless majesty, now stretches forth 
Her leaden sceptre o'er a slumbering world. 
Silence how dead! and darkness how profound! 
Nor eye nor listening ear an object finds. 
Creation sleeps. 'Tis as the general pulse 
Of life stood still, and Nature made a pause, — 
An awful pause, prophetic of her end. 

Young. 



ASPIRATE AND HALF ASPIRATE. 79 

7. It was night — 

And, softly, o'er the Sea of Galilee, 
Danced the breeze-ridden ripples to the shore, 
Tipp'd with the silver sparkles of the moon. 
The breaking waves play'd low upon the beach 
Their constant music, but the air beside 
Was still as starlight, and the Saviour's voice, 
In its rich cadences unearthly sweet, 
Seem'd like some just-born harmony in the air, 
Waked by the power of wisdom. On a rock, 
With the broad moonlight falling on his brow, 
He stood and taught the people. . . . 
. . . The same silvery light, 
That shone upon the lone rock by the sea, 
Slept on the Euler's lofty capitals, 
As at the door he stood, and welcomed in 
Jesus and his disciples. All was still. 
The echoing vestibule gave back the slide 
Of their loose sandals, and the arrowy beam 
Of moonlight, slanting to the marble floor, 
Lay like a spell of silence in the room, 
As Jairus led them on. With hushing steps 
He trod the winding stair; but ere he touched 
The latchet, from within a whisper came, 
" Trouble the Master not— for she is dead !" 
And his faint hand fell nerveless at his side, 
And his steps falter'd, and his broken voice 
Choked in its utterance; — but a gentle hand 
Was laid upon his arm, and in his ear 
The Saviour's voice sank thrillingly and low, 
"She is not dead — but sleepeth." 

Willis. 



80 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

8. Down the dark future, through long generations, 
The echoing sounds grow fainter, and then cease ; 
And, like a bell, with solemn, sweet vibrations, 

I hear once more the voice of Christ say, " Peace I" 

Longfellow. 

9. Now black and deep the night begins to fall, 
A shade immense sunk in the quenching gloom, 
Magnificent and vast are heaven and earth. 
Order confounded lies, all beauty void ; 
Distinction lost ; and gay variety 
One universal blot; such the power 
Of light, to kindle and create the whole. 

Thomson. 

HUSH! 

" I can scarcely hear," she murmured, 
" For my heart beats loud and fast, 
But surely, in the far, far distance, 
I can hear a sound at last." 

" It is only the reapers singing, 

As they carry home their sheaves; 
And the evening breeze has risen, 
And rustles the dying leaves." 

"Listen ! there are voices talking," 
Calmly still she strove to speak, 
Yet her voice grew faint and trembling, 
And the red flushed in her cheek." 
" It is only the children playing 

Below, now their work is done, 
And they laugh that their eyes are dazzled 
By the rays of the setting sun." 



ASPIRATE AND HALF ASPIRATE. 81 

Fainter grew her voice, and weaker, 

As with anxious eyes she cried, 
" Down the avenue of chestnuts 
I can hear a horseman ride." 

" It was only the deer that were feeding 

In a herd on the clover grass ; 
They were startled and fled to the thicket, 
As they saw the reapers pass." 

Now the night arose in silence, 
Birds lay in their leafy nest, 
And the deer crouched in the forest, 
And the children were at rest. 

There was only a sound of weeping 

From watchers around a bed, 
But Eest to the weary spirit, 
Peace to the quiet Dead. 

Proctor. 



PART VI. 

EMOTION. 

More than ever, if we wish to impress our hearers, 
must we, in selections expressive of the deepest feel- 
ings of the mind, experience for the time being what 
the writer has felt. We must, indeed, weep with 
those who weep, even as we rejoice with those who 
rejoice. 

EXTRACTS. 

1. Flower that in the crannied wall, 

I pluck you out of the crannies : — 
Hold you here, root and all, in ray hand, 
Little flower, — but if I could understand 
What you are, root and all, and all in all, 
I should know what God and man is. 

Tennyson. 

2. And so beside the silent sea 

I wait the muffled oar; 
No harm from Him can come to me, 

On ocean or on shore. 
I know not where His islands lift 

Their fronded palms in air ; 
I only know I cannot drift 
Beyond His love and care. 

Whittier. 
82 



EMOTION. 83 

3. Only waiting till the shadows are a little longer grown ; 

Only waiting till the glimmer of the day's last beam is 
flown ; 

Till the night of earth is faded from the heart, once 
full of day ; 

Till the stars of heaven are breaking through the twi- 
light soft and gray. 

4. Yet Love will dream, and Faith will trust, 

(Since He who knows our need is just,) 

That somehow, somewhere, meet we must. 
Alas for him who never sees 
The stars shine through his cypress-trees! 

Who hopeless, lays his dead away, 

Nor looks to see the breaking day 

Across the mournful marbles play ! 

Who hath not learned, in hours of faith, 
The truth to flesh and sense unknown, 

That Life is ever lord of Death, 

And Love can never lose its own ! 

Whittier. 

SELECTIONS. 
1. GIVE ME THREE GRAINS OF CORN, MOTHER. 

Give me three grains of corn, mother, — - 

Only three grains of corn ; 
It will keep the little life I have 

Till the coming of the morn. 
I am dying of hunger and cold, mother, — 

Dying of hunger and cold ; 
And half the agony of such a death 

My lips have never told. 



84 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

It has gnawed like a wolf, at my heart, mother,- 

A wolf that is fierce for blood ; 
All the livelong day, and the night beside, 

Gnawing for lack of food. 
I dreamed of bread in my sleep, mother, 

And the sight was heaven to see ; 
I awoke with an eager, famishing lip, 

But you had no bread for me. 

How could I look to you, mother, — 

How could I look to you 
For bread to give to your starving boy, 

When you were starving, too? 
For I read the famine in j r our cheek, 

And in your eyes so wild, 
And I felt it in your bony hand, 

As you laid it on your child. 

The Queen has lands and gold, mother, — 

The Queen has lands and gold, 
While you are forced to your empty breast 

A skeleton babe to hold, — 
A babe that is dying of want, mother, 

As I am dying now, 
With a ghastly look in its sunken eye, 

And famine upon its brow. 

What has poor Ireland done, mother, — 

What has poor Ireland done, 
That the world looks on, and sees us starve, 

Perishing one by one ? 



EMOTION. 85 

Do the men of England care not, mother, — 

The great men and the high, — 
For the suffering ones of Erin's isle, 

Whether they live or die ? 

There is many a brave heart here, mother, — 

Dying of want and cold, 
While only across the Channel, mother, 

Are many that roll in gold ; 
There are rich and proud men there, mother, 

With wondrous wealth to view, 
And the bread they fling to their dogs to-night 

Would give life to me and you. 

Come nearer to my side, mother, 

Come nearer to my side, 
And hold me fondly, as you held 

My father when he died ; 
Quick, for I cannot see you, mother, 

My breath is almost gone, 
Mother! dear mother! ere I die, 

Give me three grains of corn. 



2. CURFEW. 



Solemnly, mournfully, 
Dealing its dole, 

The Curfew Bell 
Is beginning to toll. 

8 



86 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

Cover the embers, 

And put out the light, 

Toil comes with the morning, 
And rest with the night. 



Dark grow the windows, 
And quenched is the fire, 

Sound fades into silence, — 
All footsteps retire. 

No voice in the chambers, 
No sound in the hall! 

Sleep and oblivion 
Reign over all ! 



ii. 

The book is completed, 
And closed, like the day ; 

And the hand that has written it 
Lays it away. 

Dim grow its fancies; 

Forgotten they lie ; 
Like coals in the ashes, 

They darken and die. 

Song sinks into silence, 

The story is told, 
The windows are darkened, 

The hearth-stone is cold. 



EMOTION. 87 

Darker and darker 

The black shadows fall ; 

Sleep and oblivion 

Reign over all. 

Longfellow. 



3. THE CRADLE-SONG OF THE POOR. 

Hush ! I cannot bear to see thee 

Stretch thy tiny hands in vain ; 
Dear, I have no bread to give thee, 

Nothing, child, to ease thy pain ! 
When God sent thee first to bless me, 

Proud, and thankful too, was I ; 
Now, my darling, I, thy mother, 

Almost long to see thee die. 

Sleep, my darling, thou art weary ; 
God is good, but life is dreary. 

I have watched thy beauty fading, 

And thy strength sink day by day, 
Soon, I know, will Want and Fever 

Take thy little life away. 
Famine makes thy father reckless, 

Hope has left both him and me, 
We could suffer all, my baby, 

Had we but a crust for thee. 

Sleep, my darling, thou art weary 
God is good, but life is dreary. 

Better thou shouldst perish early, 
Starve so soon, my darling one, 



88 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

Than in helpless sin and sorrow 

Vainly live, as I have done. 
Better that thy angel spirit 

With my joy, my peace, were flown, 
Than thy heart grew cold and careless, 
Eeckless, hopeless, like my own. 

Sleep, my darling, thou art weary ; 
God is good, but life is dreary. 



I am wasted, dear, with hunger, 

And my brain is all oppress 
I have scarcely strength to press thee, 

Wan and feeble, to my breast. 
Patience, baby, God will help us, 

Death will come to thee and me, 
He will take us to His heaven, 

Where no want or pain can be. 

Sleep, my darling, thou art weary; 
God is good, but life is dreary. 



Such the plaint that, late and early, 

Did we listen, we might hear 
Close beside us, — but the thunder 

Of a city dulls our ear. 
Every heart, as God's bright angel, 

Can bid one such sorrow cease ; 
God has glory when His children 
Bring His poor ones joy and peace ! 
Listen, nearer while she sings 
Sounds the fluttering of wings ! 

Proctor. 



EMOTION. 89 



4. THE SONG OF THE SHIRT. 

With fingers weary and worn, 

With eyelids heavy and red, 
A woman sat, in unwomanly rags, 

Plying her needle and thread- 
Stitch! stitch! stitch! 

In poverty, hunger, and dirt, 
And still with a voice of dolorous pitch, 

She sang the " Song of the Shirt !" 

" Work ! work ! work ! 

While the cock is crowing aloof! 
And work — -work— work ! 

Till the stars shine through the roof! 
It's oh ! to be a slave 

Along with the barbarous Turk, 
Where woman has never a soul to save, 

If this is Christian work ! 

" Work— work — work ! 

Till the brain begins to swim j 
Work — work — work ! 

Till the eyes are heavy and dim ! 
Seam, and gusset, and band, 

Band, and gusset, and seam, 
Till over the buttons I fall asleep, 

And sew them on in my dream ! 

" Oh ! men with sisters dear! 

Oh ! men with mothers and wives ! 
It is not linen you're wearing out, 

But human creatures' lives! 



90 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

Stitch! stitch! stitch! 

In poverty, hunger, and dirt, 
Sewing at once, with a double thread, 

A shroud as well as a shirt ! 

"But why do I talk of death, 

That phantom of grisly bone ? 
I hardly fear his terrible shape, 

It seems so like my own — 
It seems so like my own, 

Because of the fast I keep : 
O God ! that bread should be so dear, 

And flesh and blood so cheap ! 

" Work ! work ! work ! 

My labor never flags ; 
And what are its wages ? A bed of straw — 

A crust of bread — and rags : 
That shattered roof — and this naked floor — 

A table — a broken chair — 
And a wall so blank, my shadow I thank 

For sometimes falling there ! 

" Work — work — work ! 

From weary chime to chime ; 
Work— work — work ! 

As prisoners work for crime! 
Band, and gusset, and seam, 

Seam, and gusset, and band, 
Till the heart is sick, and the brain benumb' d, 

As well as the weary hand ! 



EMOTION. 91 

" Work — work — work, 

In the dull December light : 
And work — work — work ! 

When the weather is warm and bright: 
While underneath the eaves 

The brooding swallows cling, 
As if to show me their sunny backs, 

And twit me with the spring. 

" Oh ! but to breathe the breath 

Of the cowslip and primrose sweet : 
With the sky above my head, 

And the grass beneath my feet : 
For only one short hour 

To feel as I used to feel, 
Before I knew the woes of want, 

And the walk that costs a meal ! 

" Oh ! but for one short hour ! 

A respite, however brief! 
No blessed leisure for love or hope, 

But only time for grief! 
A little weeping would ease my heart, — 

But in their briny bed 
My tears must stop, for every drop 

Hinders needle and thread !" 

With fingers weary and worn, 

With eyelids heavy and red, 
A woman sat, in unwomanly rags, 

Plying her needle and thread ; 



92 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

Stitch, stitch, stitch ! 

In poverty, hunger, and dirt ; 

And still with a voice of dolorous pitch, — 

Would that its tone could reach the rich ! — 

She sang the " Song of the Shirt !" 

Hood. 

5. THE FAMINE. 

Adapted from Hiawatha. 

O the famine and the fever! 
O the wasting of the famine ! 
O the blasting of the fever ! 
O the wailing of the children ! 

the anguish of the women ! 

All the earth was sick and famished ; 
Hungry was the air around them, 
Hungry was the sky above them, 
And the hungry stars in heaven 
Like the eyes of wolves glared at them! 

Into Hiawatha's wigwam 
Came two other guests, as silent 
As the ghosts were, and as gloomy, 
Waited not to be invited, 
Did not parley at the doorway, 
Sat there without word of welcome 
In the seat of Laughing Water; 
Looked with haggard eyes and hollow 
At the face of Laughing Water. 

And the foremost said : " Behold me ! 

1 am Famine, Bukadawin !" 

And the other said : " Behold me ! 
I am Fever, Ahkosewin !" 
And the lovely Minnehaha 



EMOTION. 93 

Shuddered as they looked upon her, 
Shuddered at the words they uttered, 
Hid her face and made no answer; 
Lay there trembling, freezing, burning 
At the looks they cast upon her, 
At the fearful words they uttered. 

•%. %. %■ ^: ^ 

" Gitche Manito, the Mighty !" 
Cried he, with his face uplifted 
In that bitter hour of anguish, 
" Give your children food, O father ! 
Give us food, or we must perish ! 
Give me food for Minnehaha, 
For my dying Minnehaha !" 

Through the far resounding forest, 
Through the forest vast and vacant 
Rang that cry of desolation ; 
But there came no other answer 
Than the echo of his crying, 
Than the echo of the woodlands, 

"Minnehaha! Minnehaha!" 



"Farewell!" said he, "Minnehaha! 
Farewell, O my Laughing Water ! 
All my heart is buried with you, 
All my thoughts go onward with you! 
Come not back again to labor, 
Come not back again to suffer, 
Where the Famine and the Fever 
Wear the heart and waste the body. 
Soon my task will be completed, 



94 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

Soon your footsteps I shall follow 
To the Islands of the Blessed, 
To the Kingdom of Ponemah, 
To the Land of the Hereafter!" 

Longfellow. 



PART VII. 

MISCELLANEOUS. 

EXTRACTS. 

1. " I called unto my God out of the great deep ; 
and He had compassion on me, because His love was 
infinite, and His power without measure. He called 
for my life, and 1 offered it at His footstool; but He 
gave it me as a prey, with unspeakable addition. He 
called for my will, and I resigned it at His call; but 
He returned me His own in token of His love. He 
called for the world, and I laid it at His feet, with the 
crowns thereof; I withheld them not at the beckon- 
ing of His hand. But mark the benefit of exchange ! 
For He gave me, instead of earth, a kingdom of eter- 
nal peace ; and in lieu of crowns of vanity, a crown of 

glory." 

Thomas Story. 

2. Now on the bills I hear the thunder mutter, 
The wind is gathering in the west; 
The upturned leaves first whiten and flutter, 

Then droop to a fitful rest; 
Up from the stream with sluggish flap 
Struggles the gull and floats away; 

95 



06 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

Nearer and nearer rolls the thunder-clap ; — 
We shall not see the sun go down to-day : 

Now leaps the wind on the sleepy marsh, 
And tramples the grass with terrified feet, 

The startled river turns leaden and harsh : 

You can hear the quick heart of the tempest beat. 

Lowell. 

3. Look ! look ! that livid flash ! 

And instantly follows the rattling thunder, 
As if some cloud-crag, split asunder, 

Fell, splintering with a ruinous crash, 
On the earth, which crouches in silence under; 

And now a solid gray wall of rain 
Shuts off the landscape, mile by mile. 

Lowell. 

4. Hush ! Still as death, 

The tempest holds his breath 
As from a sudden will ; 
The rain stops short, but from the eaves 
You see it drop, and hear it from the leaves, 
All so bodingly still ; 
Again, now, now, again 
Plashes the rain in heavy gouts, 
The crinkled lightning 
Seems ever brightening, 
And loud and long 
Again the thunder shouts 
His battle-song, — 
One quivering flash, 
One wildering crash, 



MISCELLANEOUS. 97 

Followed by silence dead and dull, 

As if the cloud, let go, 

Leapt bodily below 

To whelm the earth in one mad overthrow, 

And then a total lull. 

Lowell. 

5. In our age there can be no peace that is not 
honorable ; there can be no war that is not dishonor- 
able. The true honor of a nation is to be found only 
in deeds of justice and in the happiness of the people, 
all of which are inconsistent with war. In the clear 
eye of Christian judgment vain are its victories, in- 
famous are its spoils. He is the true benefactor and 
alone worthy of honor who brings comfort where be- 
fore was wretchedness ; who dries the tear of sorrow ; 
who pours oil into the wounds of the unfortunate; 
who feeds the hungry and clothes the naked; who un- 
loosens the fetters of the slave ; who does justice ; who 
enlightens the ignorant; who enlivens and exalts, by 
his virtuous genius, in art, in literature, in science, the 
hours of life; who, by words or actions, inspires a 
love for God and for man. This is the Christian hero ; 
this is the man of honor in a Christian land. He is 
no benefactor, nor deserving of honor, whatever may 
be his worldly renown, whose life is passed in acts of 
force ; who renounces the great law of Christian broth- 
erhood; whose vocation is blood; who triumphs in 
battle over his fellow-men. Well may old Sir Thomas 
Browne exclaim, " The world does not know its great- 
est men ;" for thus far it has chiefly discerned the vio- 

k 9 9 



98 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

lent brood of battle, the armed men springing up from 
the dragon's teeth sown by Hate, and cared little for 
the truly good men, children of Love, guiltless of 
their country's blood, whose steps on earth have been 
as noiseless as an angel's wing. 

Sumner. 



SELECTIONS. 

1. BREAK, BREAK, BREAK. 

Break, break, break, 

On thy cold gray stones, O Sea! 
And I would that my tongue could utter 

The thoughts that arise in me. 

O well for the fisherman's boy, 

That he shouts with his sister at play! 

O well for the sailor Jad, 

That he sings in his boat on the bay! 

And the stately ships go on 
To their haven under the hill; 

But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand, 
And the sound of a voice that is still. 



Break, break, break, 

At the foot of thy crags, O Sea ! 
But the tender grace of a day that is dead 

Will never come back to me. 

Tennyson. 



MISCELLA NEO US. 9 9 

2. THE SEA. 
Extracts from "A Salt Breeze." 

The sea is another firmament. The land is fugi- 
tive ; it abides not. Vast areas have been scalped by 
the winds and the rains; but the sea, whose law is 
mutation, changes not; type of fickleness and insta- 
bility; yet the granite crumbles, and it remains the 
same. The semicircle that bounds your view seaward, 
and that travels with you along the beach, a vast liquid 
crescent, upon the inner, jagged, edge of which you 
stand, is the type of that which changes not; which 
neither ends nor begins, and into which all form and 
all being merge. 

We seem to breathe a larger air on the coast. It is 
the place for large types, large thoughts. ? Tis not 
farms, or a township, we see now, but God's ow^n do- 
main. Possession, ownership, civilization, boundary 
lines, cease; and there w T ithin reach is a clear page of 
terrestrial space as unmarred and unmarrable as if 
plucked from the sidereal heavens. 

How inviting and adventurous the ships look, drop- 
ping behind the rim of the horizon or gently blown 
along its edge, their yard-arms pointing to all quarters 
of the globe ! 

But the veritable oceanic brine, there before one, 
the continental, primordial, original liquid, the hoary, 



100 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

eternal sea itself, — what can a lover of fields and woods 
make of it ? 

None of the charms or solacements of birds and 
flowers are here, or of rural sights and sounds ; no re- 
pose, no plaintiveness, no dumb companionship ; but a 
spirit threatening, hungering, remorseless, decoying, 
fascinating, serpentine, — rebelling and forever rebel- 
ling against the fiat, " Thus far shalt thou come and 
no farther.' 5 The voice of the sea is unlike any other 
sound in nature; more riant and chafing than any 
roar of woods or storms. One never ceases to hear 
the briny, rimy, weltering quality, — it is salt to the ear 
no less than to the smell ! 

The sea shifts its pillow like an uneasy sleeper. The 
contour of the beach is seldom two days alike. That 
round, smooth bolster of sand is at times very promi- 
nent. The waves stroke and caress it, and slide 
their delicate sea-draperies over it, as if they were in- 
deed making their bed. — When you walk there again, 
it is gone, carried down under the waves, and the 
beach is low and naked. 

Sometimes the waves look like revolving, cylindri- 
cal knives, carving the coast. Then they thrust up 
their thin crescent- shaped edges like reapers, reaping 
only shells and sand, yet one seems to hear the hiss of 
a great sickle, the crackle of stubble, the rustle of 
sheaves and the screening of grain. Then again there 
is mimic thunder as the waves burst, followed by a 



MISCELLANEOUS. 101 

sound like the down-pouring of torrents of rain. How 
it shovels the sand, and sifts and washes it forever ! 

The sea is the great purifier and equalizer of climes; 
the great canceller, leveller, distributor, neutralizer, 
and sponge of oblivion. What a cemetery, and yet 
wdiat healing in its breast! What a desert, and 
yet what plenty in its depths ! How destructive, and 
yet the continents are its handiwork ! 

" Sea, full of food, the nourivher of kinds, 
Purger of earth and medicine of men" — 

and yet famine and thirst, dismay and death, stalk the 
wave. Contradictory, multitudinous sea! The de- 
spoiler and yet the renewer; old as Time and young 
as To-day; merciless, yet tender; the fountain of all 
waters, yet mocking its victims with the most horrible 
thirst; smiting like a hammer, and caressing like a 
lady's palm ; falling upon the shore, like a wall of 
rock, then creeping up the sands as with the rustle of 
an infant's drapery; cesspool of the continents, yet 
" creating a sweet clime by its breath;" pit of terrors, 
gulf of despair, . . . yet health, power, beauty, en- 
chantment, dwell forever with the sea ! 

John Burroughs. 

3. AN ALPINE STORM AT LAKE GENEVA. 

The sky is changed! and such a change! O night, 
And storm, and darkness, ye are wondrous strong, 

Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light 
Of a dark eye in woman ! Far along 
From peak to peak, the rattling crags among, 

9* 



102 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

Leaps the live thunder! Not from one lone cloud, 

But every mountain now hath found a tongue, 
And Jura answers, through her misty shroud, 
Back to the joyous Alps, who call to her aloud ! 

And this is in the night: — most glorious night! 

Thou wert not sent for slumber ! let me be 
A sharer in thy fierce and far delight, — 

A portion of the tempest and of thee! 

How the lit lake shines, a phosphoric sea, 
And the big rain comes dancing to the earth ! 

And now again 'tis black, — and now the glee 

Of the loud hills shakes with its mountain-mirth, 

As if they did rejoice o'er a young earthquake's birth. 

Byron. 

4. THE BELLS OF SHANDON. 

With deep affection and recollection, 

I often think of those Shandon bells, 
Whose sound so wild would, in the days of childhood, 

Fling round my cradle their magic spells. 

On this I ponder where'er I wander, 

And thus grow fonder, sweet Cork, of thee, — 

With thy bells of Shandon, that sound so grand, on 
The pleasant waters of the river Lee. 

I've heard bells chiming full many a clime in, 

Tolling sublime in cathedral shrine; 
While at a glib rate brass tongues would vibrate; 

But all their music spoke naught like thine. 



MISCELLANEOUS. 103 

For memory dwelling, on each proud swelling 
Of thy belfry, knelling its bold notes free, 

Made the bells of Shandon sound far more grand, on 
The pleasant waters of the river Lee. 

I've heard bells tolling old Adrian's Mole in, 
Their thunder rolling from the Vatican ; 

And cymbals glorious swinging uproarious 
In the gorgeous turret of Notre Dame ; 

But thy sounds were sweeter than the dome of Peter 

Flings o'er the Tiber, pealing solemnly. 
Oh ! the bells of Shandon sound far more grand, on 

The pleasant waters of the river Lee. 

There's a bell in Moscow 7 ; while on tower and kiosk — O — 

In Saint Sophia the Turkman gets, 
And loud in air calls men to prayer, 

From the tapering summits of tall minarets. 

Such empty phantom I freely grant them ; 

But there's an anthem more dear to me : 
'Tis the bells of Shandon that sound so grand, on 

The pleasant waters of the river Lee. 

Mahony. 

5. THE HIGH TIDE ON THE COAST OF LINCOLNSHIRE. 

Adapted. 

The old mayor climbed the belfry tower, 

The ringers ran by two, by three ; 
" Pull, if ye never pulled before ; 

Good ringers, pull your best," quoth he. 



104 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

"Play uppe, play uppe, O Boston bells! 
Ply all your changes, all your swells, 
Play uppe the ' Brides of Enderby.' " 

I sat and spun within the doore, 

My thread break off, I raised myne eyes ; 

The level sun like ruddy ore 
Lay sinking in the barren skies, 

And dark against day's golden death 

She moved where Lindis wandereth, 

My Sonne's fair wife, Elizabeth. 

Cusha! Cusha! Cusha! calling, 
Ere the early dews were falling, 
Farre away I heard her song 

Cusha! Cusha! all along; 
Where the reedy Lindis floweth, 

Floweth, floweth, 
From the meads where melick groweth, 

Faintly came her milking song — 

"Cusha! Cusha! Cusha!" calling, 
" For the dews will soone be falling ; 
Leave your meadow grasses mellow, 

Mellow, mellow ; 
Quit your cowslips, cowslips yellow, 
Come uppe, Whitefoot, come uppe, Lightfoot ; 
Quit the stalks of parsley hollow, 

Hollow, hollow; 
Come uppe, Jetty, rise and follow, 
From the clovers lift your head ; 



MISCELLANEOUS. 105 

Come uppe, Whitefoot, come uppe, Lightfoot, 
Come uppe, Jetty, rise and follow, 
Jetty, to the milking shed." 

Alle fresh the level pasture lay, 

And not a shadow mote be seer.e, 
Save where full fyve good miles away 

The steeple towered from out the greene ; 
And lo ! The great bell farre and wide 
Was heard in all the country side 
That Saturday at eventide. 

The swanherds where their sedges are 

Moved on in sunset's golden breath, 
The shepherde lads I heard afarre, 

And my Sonne's wife, Elizabeth ; 
Till floating o'er that grassy sea 
Came down that kindly message free, 
The " Brides of Mavis Enderby ." 

Then some looked uppe into the sky, 

And all along where Lindis flows 
To where the goodly vessels lie, 

And where the lordly steeple shows. 
They sayde, H And why should this thing be?" 
"What danger lowers by land or sea? 
They ring the tunes of Enderby !" 

I looked without and lo ! my sonne 

Came riding downe with might and main : 

He raised a shout as he drew on, 
Till all the welkin rang again, 



106 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION, 

" Elizabeth ! Elizabeth !" 

(A sweeter woman ne'er drew breath 

Than my Sonne's wife Elizabeth.) 

"The old sea-wall (he cried) is downe ; 

The rising tide comes on apace, 
And boats adrift in yonder town 

Go sailing uppe the market place." 
He shook as one who looks on death : 
" God save you, mother!" straight he saith : 
" Where is my wife Elizabeth ?" 

"Good sonne, where Lindis winds away, 

With her two bairns I marked her long ; 
And ere yon bells began to play 

Afar I heard her milking song " 
He looked across the grassy lea, 
To right, to left, " Ho Enderby !" 
They rang the " Brides of Enderby !" 

With that he cried and beat his breast ; 

For lo ! along the river's bed 
A mighty eygre reared its head 

And uppe the Lindis raging sped ; 
It swept with thunderous noises loud, 
Shaped like a curling snow-white shroud, 
Or like a demon in a shroud. 

So farre, so fast the eygre drave, 
The heart had hardly time to beat 

Before a shallow seething wave 
Sobbed in the grasses at oure feet : 



MISCELLANEOUS. 107 

The feet had hardly time to flee 
Before it brake against the knee, 
And all the world was in the sea. 

Upon the roof we sate that night. 
The noise of bells went sweeping by ; 

I marked the lofty beacon light 

Stream from the church tower, red and high, — 

A lurid mark and dread to see ; 

And awesome bells they were to mee, 

That in the dark rang "Enderby." 

They rang the sailor lads to guide 

From roofe to roofe that fearless rowed; 

And I— my sonne was at my side, 
And yet the ruddy beacon glowed, 

And yet he moaned beneath his breath, 

" O come in life, or come in death, 

O lost ! my love, Elizabeth." 

And didst thou visit him no more? 

Thou didst, thou didst, my daughter deare ; 
The waters laid thee at his doore, 

Ere yet the early morn was clear. 
Thy pretty bairns in fast embrace, 
The lifted sun shone on thy face, 
Downe drifted to thy dwelling-place. 

That flow strewed wrecks about the grass, 
That ebbe swept out the flocks to sea; 

A fatal ebbe and flow, alas ! 

To many more than myne and mee : 



108 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION, 

But each will mourn his own (she saith); 
And sweeter woman ne'er drew breath 
Than my Sonne's wife, Elizabeth. 

I shall never hear her more 
By the reedy Lindis shore, 
Cusha ! Cusha ! Cusha ! calling, 
Ere the early dews be falling ; 
I shall never hear her song 
Cusha! Cusha! all along 
Where the sunny Lindis floweth, 

Goeth, floweth ; 
From the meads where melick groweth, 
When the water winding down 
Onward floweth to the town. 

I shall never see her more 

Where the reeds and rushes quiver, 

Shiver, quiver; 
Stand beside the sobbing river 
Sobbing, throbbing, in its falling 
To the sandy lonesome shore. 



Ingelow. 



6. BODILY EXERCISE. 



Bodily labor is of two kinds, either that which a 
man submits to or his livelihood, or that which he 
undergoes for his pleasure. The latter of them gen- 
erally changes the name of labor for that of exercise, 
but differs only from ordinary labor as it arises from 
another motive. 

A country life abounds in both these kinds of labor, 
and for that reason gives a man a greater stock of 



MISCELLANEOUS. 109 

health, and consequently a more perfect enjoyment of 
himself, than any other waj^ of life. I consider the 
body as a system of tubes and glands, or to use a 
more rustic phrase, a bundle of pipes and strainers, 
fitted to one another after so wonderful a manner as 
to make a proper engine for the soul to work with. 
This description does not only comprehend the bowels, 
tendons, veins, nerves, and arteries, but every muscle 
and every ligature, which is a composition of fibres, 
that are so many imperceptible tubes or pipes inter- 
woven on all sides with invisible glands or strainers. 

This general idea of a human body, without con- 
sidering it in its niceties of anatomy, lets us see how 
absolute^ 7 necessary labor is for the right preservation 
of it. There must be frequent motions and agita- 
tions, to mix, digest, and separate the juices contained 
in it, as well as to clear and cleanse that infinitude of 
pipes and strainers of which it is composed, and to 
give their more solid parts a more firm and lasting 
tone. Labor or exercise ferments the humors, casts 
them into their proper channels, throws off redundan- 
cies, and helps Nature in those secret distributions, 
without which the body cannot subsist in its vigor, 
nor the soul act with cheerfulness. 

I might here mention the effects which this has 
upon all the faculties of the mind, by keeping the 
understanding clear, the imagination untroubled, and 
refining those spirits that are necessary for the proper 
exertion of our intellectual faculties, during the pres- 
ent laws of union between soul and body. It is to a 

10 



110 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

neglect in this particular that we must ascribe the 
spleen, which is so frequent in men of studious and 
sedentary tempers, as well as the vapors to which those 
of the other sex are so often subject. 

Had not exercise been absolutely necessary for our 
well-being, Nature would not have made the body so 
proper for it, by giving such an activity to the limbs, 
and such a pliancy to every part as necessarily produce 
those compressions, extensions, contortions, dilatations, 
and all other kinds of motions that are necessary for 
the preservation of such a system of tubes and glands 
as has been before mentioned. And that we might 
not want inducements to engage us in such exercise of 
the body as is proper for its welfare, it is so ordered 
that nothing valuable can be procured without. Not 
to mention riches and honor, even food and raiment 
are not to be come at without the toil of the hands 
and sweat of the brows. Providence furnishes ma- 
terials, but expects that we should work them up 
ourselves. The earth must be labored before it gives 
its increase, and when it is forced into its several 
products, how many hands they must pass through be- 
fore they are fit for use ? Manufactures, trade, and 
agriculture, naturally employ more than nineteen parts 
of the species in twenty ; and as for those who are not 
obliged to labor, by the condition in which they are 
born, they are more miserable than the rest of man- 
kind, unless they indulge themselves in that volun- 
tary labor which goes by the name of exercise. 

Addison. 



MISCELLANEOUS, 111 

7. THE CHARCOAL MAN. 

Though rudely blows the wintry blast, 
And sifting snows fall white and fast, 
Mark Haley drives along the street, 
Perched high upon his wagon seat ; 
His sombre face the storm defies, 
And thus from morn till eve he cries, — 

"Charco'! charco' !" 
While echo faint and far replies, — 

" Hark, ! hark, O !" 
" Charco' V — "Hark, O !" — Such cheery sounds 
Attend him on his daily rounds. 

The dust begrimes his ancient hat ; 

His coat is darker far than that ; 

'Tis odd to see his sooty form 

All speckled with the feathery storm ; 

Yet in his honest bosom lies 

Nor spot, nor speck, — though still he cries, — 

" Charco' ! charco' 1" 
And many a roguish lad replies, — 

"Ark, ho! ark, ho!" 
" Charco' !" — "Ark, ho !" — Such various sounds 
Announce Mark Haley's morning rounds. 

Thus all the cold and wintry day 
He labors much for little pay; 
Yet feels no less of happiness 
Than many a richer man, I guess, 
When through the shades of eve he spies 
The light of his own home, and cries, — 



J 12 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

" Charco' ! charco' !" 
And Martha from the door replies, — 

"Mark, ho! Mark, ho!" 
'• Charco' I" — " Mark, ho !" — Such joy abounds 
When he has closed his daily rounds. 

The hearth is warm, the fire is bright ; 

And while his hand, washed clean and white, 

Holds Martha's tender hand once more, 

His glowing face bends fondly o'er 

The crib wherein his darling lies, 

And in a coaxing tone he cries, 

u Charco' ! charco' !" 
And baby with a laugh replies, — 

11 Ah, go! — ah, go! 1 ' 
" Charco' !" — " Ah, go !" — while at the sounds 
The mother's heart with gladness bounds. 

Then honored be the charcoal man ! 
Though dusky as an African, 
'Tis not for you, that chance to be 
A little better clad than he, 
His honest manhood to despise, 
Although from morn till eve he cries, — 

" Charco' ! charco' !" 
While mocking echo still replies, — 

" Hark, O ! hark, O !" 
" Charco' !" — " Hark, O !" — Long may the sounds 
Proclaim Mark Haley's daily rounds ! 

Trowbridge. 



MISCELLANEO US. 113 

8. THE BELLS. 

Hear the sledges with the bells,— 
Silver bells,— 
What a world of merriment their melody foretells ! 
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, 

In the icy air of night ! 
While the stars that oversprinkle 
All the heavens seem to twinkle 

With a crystalline delight ; 
Keeping time, time, time, 
In a sort of Runic rhyme, 
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells 
From the bells, bells, bells, bells, 
Bells, bells, bells, — 
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells. 

Hear the mellow wedding bells, — 
Golden bells ! 
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells ! 
Through the balmy air of night 
How they ring out their delight! 
From the molten-golden notes, 

And all in tune, 
What a liquid ditty floats 
To the turtle dove that listens, while she gloats 
On the moon ! 
Oh, from out the sounding cells, 
What a gush of euphony voluminously wells ! 
How it swells ! 
How it dwells 
On the Future ! how it tells 
Of the rapture that impels 
h 10* 



114 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

To the swinging and the ringing 

Of the bells, bells, bells, — 
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, 
Bells, bells, bells, — 
To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells! 

Hear the loud alarum bells, — 
Brazen bells ! 
What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells ! 
In the startled ear of night 
How they scream out their affright! 
Too much horrified to speak, 
They can only shriek, shriek, 
Out of tune, 
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire, 
In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire, 
Leaping higher, higher, higher, 
With a desperate desire, 
And a resolute endeavor, 
Now — now to sit, or never, 
By the side of the pale-faced moon. 
Oh, the bells, bells, bells ! 
What a tale their terror tells 
Of Despair ! 
How they clang, and clash, and roar! 
What a horror they outpour 
On the bosom of the palpitating air ! 
Yet the ear, it fully knows, 
By the twanging, 
And the clanging, 
How the danger ebbs and flows : 
Yet the ear distinctly telfa, 



MISCELLANEO US. 115 

In the jangling, 
And the wrangling, 
How the danger sinks and swells, 
By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells, — 
Of the bells, — 
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, 
Bells, bells, bells, — 
In the clamor and the clangor of the bells! 

Hear the tolling of the bells, — 
Iron bells ! 
What a world of solemn thought their monody compels! 
In the silence of the night ; 
How we shiver with affright, 
At the melancholy menace of their tone! 
For every sound that floats 
From the rust within their throats, 
Is a groan. 
And the people, — ah ! the people, — 
They that dwell up in the steeple, 

All alone, 
And who, tolling, tolling, tolling, 

In that muffled monotone, 
Feel a glory in so rolling 

On the human heart a stone, — 
They are neither man nor woman, — 
They are neither brute nor human, — 

They are Ghouls : 
And their king it is who tolls ; 
And he rolls, rolls, rolls, 
Eolls, 



116 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

A psean from the bells ! 
And his merry bosom swells 

With the psean of the bells ! 
And he dances, and he yells; 
Keeping time, time, time, 
In a sort of Eunic rhyme, 

To the paean of the bells,— 
Of the bells : 
Keeping time, time, time, 
In a sort of Runic rhyme, 

To the throbbing of the bells, — 
Of the bells, bells, bells, — 

To the sobbing of the bells ; 
Keeping time, time, time, 

As he knells, knells, knells, 
In a happy Eunic rhyme, 

To the rolling of the bells, — 
Of the bells, bells, bells, — 

To the tolling of the bells, 
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, — 

Bells, bells, bells, — 
To the moaning and the groaning of the bells. 

Poe. 
9. KEEPING HIS WORD. 



" Only a penny a box," he said ; 
But the gentleman turned away his head, 
As if he shrank from the squalid sight 
Of the boy who stood in the failing light. 

"Oh, sir," he stammered, "you cannot know" — 
(And he brushed from his matches the flakes of snow, 



MISCELLANEOUS. 117 

That the sudden tear might have chanced to fall,) 
" Or, I think — I think you will take them all. 

" Hungry and cold, at our garret pane, 
Ruby will watch till I come again, 
Bringing the loaf The sun has set, 
And he hasn't a crumb of breakfast yet. 

" One penny, and then I can buy the bread." 
The gentleman stopped. " And you?" he said. 
" I? — I can put up with them, hunger and cold. 
But Ruby is only five years old. 

" I promised our mother before she went — 
She knew I would do it, and died content — 
I promised her, sir, through best, through worst, 
I always would think of Euby first.'' 

The gentleman paused at the open door ; 
Such tales he had often heard before ; 
But he fumbled his purse in the twilight drear — 
" I have nothing less than a shilling here." 

" Oh, sir, if you will only take the pack, 
I'll bring you the change in a moment back ; 
Indeed you may trust me !" " Trust you ? — no ; 
But there is the shilling ; take it and go." 



ii. 

The gentleman lolled in his easy-chair, 
And watched his cigar-wreath melt in the air, 
And smiled on his children, and rose to see 
The baby asleep on its mother's knee. 



118 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

" And now it is nine by the clock," he said, 

" Time that my darlings were all abed ; 

Kiss me ' good-night,' and each be sure, 

When you're saying your prayers, remember the poor." 

Just then came a message — " A boy at the door" — 
Before it was uttered he stood on the floor, 
Half breathless, bewildered, and ragged and strange; 
" / am Ruby — Mike's brother — I have brought you the 
change. 

" Mike's hurt, sir. 'Twas dark ; the snow made him blind, 
And he didn't take notice the train was behind, 
Till he slipped on the track — and then it whizzed by, 
And he's home in the garret. I think he will die. 

" Yet nothing would do him, sir — nothing would do, 
But out through the snow I must hurry to you. 
Of his hurt he was certain you wouldn't have heard, 
And so you might think he had broken his word. 11 

When the garret they hastily entered, they saw 
Two arms, mangled, shapeless, outstretched from the straw. 
" You did it — dear Ruby — God bless you /" he said, 
And the boy, gladly smiling, sank back — and was dead. 

Preston. 

10. THE CATARACT OF LODORE. 

" How does the water 
Come down at Lodore ?" 
My little boy ask'd me 
Thus once on a time ; 



MISCELLANEOUS. 119 



And moreover he tasked me 
To tell him in rhyme. 
Anon at the word, 
There first came one daughter, 
And then came another, 

To second and third 
The request of their brother, 
And to hear how the water 
Comes down at Lodore, 
With its rush and its roar, 
As many a time 
They had seen it before. 
So I told them in rhyme, 
For of rhymes 1 had store ; 
And 'twas in my vocation 
For their recreation 
That so I should sing, 
Because 1 was Laureate 
To them and the King. 

From its sources which well 
In the Tarn on the fell, 
From its fountains 
In the mountains, 
Its rills and its gills ; 
Through moss and through brake 
It runs and it creeps 
For a while, till it sleeps 

In its own little Lake. 
And thence at departing, 
Awakening and starting, 
It runs through the reeds, 



120 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

And away it proceeds 
Through meadow and glade, 
In sun and in shade, 
And through the wood-shelter, 
Among crags in its flurry, 
Helter-skelter, 
Hurry- skurry. 
Here it comes sparkling, 
And there it lies darkling ; 
Now smoking and frothing 
Its tumult and wrath in, 
Till, in this rapid race 
On which it is bent, 
It reaches the place 
Of its steep descent. 

The Cataract strong 
Then plunges along, 
Striking and raging, - 
As if a war waging 
Its caverns and rocks among ; 
Eising and leaping, 
Sinking and creeping, 
Swelling and sweeping, 
Showering and springing, 
Flying and flinging, 
Writhing and ringing, 
Eddying and whisking, 
Spouting and frisking, 
Turning and twisting, 
Around and around 
With endless rebound ! 



MISCELLANEOUS. 121 

Smiting and fighting, 
A sight to delight in ; 

Confounding, astounding, 
Dizzying and deafening the ear with its sound. 

Collecting, projecting, 
Keceding and speeding, 
And shocking and rocking, 
And darting and parting, 
And threading and spreading, 
And whizzing and hissing, 
And dripping and skipping, 
And hitting and splitting, 
And shining and twining, 
And rattling and battling, 
And shaking and quaking, 
And pouring and roaring, 
And waving and raving, 
And tossing and crossing, 
And flowing and going, 
And running and stunning, 
And foaming and roaming, 
And dinning and spinning, 
And dropping and hopping, 
And working and jerking, 
And guggling and struggling, 
And heaving and cleaving, 
And moaning and groaning; 

And glittering and frittering, 
And gathering and feathering, 
And whitening and brightening, 
And quivering and shivering, 
11 



122 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

And hurrying and skurrying, 
And thundering and floundering; 

Dividing and gliding and sliding, 

And falling and brawling and sprawling, 

And driving and riving and striving, 

And sprinkling and twinkling and wrinkling, 

And sounding and bounding and rounding, 

And bubbling and troubling and doubling, 

And grumbling and rumbling and tumbling, 

And clattering and battering and shattering; 

Eetreating and beating and meeting and sheeting, 
Delaying and straying and playing and spraying, 
Advancing and prancing and glancing and dancing, 
Recoiling, turmoiling and toiling and boiling, 
And gleaming and streaming and steaming and beaming, 
And rushing and flushing and brushing and gushing, 
And flapping and rapping and clapping and slapping, 
And curling and whirling and purling and twirling, 
And thumping and plumping and bumping and jumping, 
And dashing and flashing and splashing and clashing; 
And so never ending, but always descending, 
Sounds and motions for ever and ever are blending, 
All at once and all o'er with mighty uproar ; 
And this way the water comes down at Lodore. 

Southey. 

11. BUGLE SONG. 

The splendor falls on castle walls 
And snowy summits old in story ; 

The long light shakes across the lakes, 
And the wild cataract leaps in glory. 



MISCELLA NEO US. 123 

Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, 
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. 

O hark, hear! how thin and clear, 

And thinner, clearer, farther going ! 
O sweet and far from cliff and scaur 

The horns of Elfland faintly blowing ! 
Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying : 
Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. 

love, they die in yon rich sky, 

They faint on hill or field or river : 
Our echoes roll from soul to soul, 

And grow forever and forever. 
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, 
And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying. 

Tennyson. 

12. TOBACCO. 

Whatever benefits may be legitimately claimed for 
tobacco, very few will deny that the prevailing habit 
of using it is expensive, unwholesome, and uncleanly, 
if not actually demoralizing and perilous. Why, then, 
must it be touched so gingerly? Why must we ap- 
proach it with deprecating bows and apologies, as if, 
after all, it was not much of an offence ? 

Alas ! it is because this ugly brown idol is set up in 
high places ; because it is enshrined in many a heart 
as the dearest thing on earth. If, now and then, some 
fearless hand attacks it, not a few, even among those 
who are not among its votaries, in their concern lest 



124 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

some good man may chance to get hit, stand ready to 
warn off the assailant. One is thus reminded of the 
old slavery days, when many who were not practical 
partakers condoned the offence of such as were. 

Are not those who use this narcotic in its various 
forms as truly slaves as were our Southern negroes? 
Is not its bondage as oppressive as was theirs ? Are 
not its fetters as tightly riveted ? 

This tobacco-habit extends to every nation on the 
globe, and permeates every rank of society. The gray- 
haired patriarch is not too old nor the boy of twelve 
too young to be its willing subject. The filthiest slum 
and the politest society are alike pervaded by it. 

It stalks defiantly through the streets, fouling the 
very air of heaven. It sits boldly in our legislative 
halls, both state and national. In spite of special 
arrangements to imprison it, there is no such thing as 
shutting it away from the tell-tale air and the whisper- 
ing breeze. 

Its insidious spell has so fallen on the community 
that multitudes seem utterly insensible to its charac- 
ter and its consequences. Indeed, so potent is this 
spell that there is now and then a woman who instead 
of being disturbed by seeing her father or brother, 
husband or lover, among the victims, will compla- 
cently smile upon his ofiFence and gayly decorate the 
symbols of his slavery. 

Shall I be pronounced a fanatic, a monomaniac, for 
writing thus? Yea, verily. But though I am such, I 
will still claim a hearing. 



MISCELLA NEO US. 1 25 

If I have written strongly, it is because I have felt 
deeply. But however strong the language used, it 
has been far from my thought to represent the tobacco 
vice as the only or the greatest vice in the world, or 
tobacco-votaries as sinners above all the men that dwell 
in Galilee. And it has been frankly, though sorrow- 
fully, conceded that among these votaries are men of 
unquestioned moral and spiritual excellence. 

Lawrence. 

13. EVENING AT THE FARM. 

Over the hill the farm-boy goes, 
His shadow lengthens along the land, 
A giant staff in a giant hand ; 
In the poplar-tree, above the spring, 
The katy-did begins to sing ; 

The early dews are falling ; — 
Into the stone-heap darts the mink; 
The swallows skim the river's brink ; 
And home to the woodland fly the crows, 
When over the hill the farm-boy goes, 
Cheerily calling, 

" Co', boss! co', boss! co' ! co' ! co' !" 
Farther, farther, over the hill, 
Faintly calling, calling still, 

" Co', boss! co', boss! co' ! co' ! co' !" 

Now to her task the milkmaid goes. 
The cattle come crowding through the gate, 
Looing, pushing, little and great ; 
About the trough, by the farm-yard pump, 
The frolicsome yearlings frisk and jump, 
11* 



126 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION, 

While the pleasant dews are falling; — 
The new milch heifer is quick and shy, 
But the old cow waits with tranquil eye, 
And the white stream into the bright pail flows, 
When to her task the milkmaid goes, 
Soothingly calling, 

" So, boss ! so, boss ! so ! so ! so !" 
The cheerful milkmaid takes her stool, 
And sits and milks in the twilight cool, 

Saying, " So ! so, boss ! so ! so !" 

To supper at last the farmer goes. 

The apples are pared, the paper read, 

The stories are told, then all to bed. 

Without, the cricket's ceaseless song 

Makes shrill the silence all night long ; 

The heavy dews are falling. 

The housewife's hand has turned the lock ; 

Drowsily ticks the kitchen clock ; 

The household sinks to deep repose, 

But still in sleep the farm-boy goes 

Singing, calling, — 

" Co', boss ! co', boss ! co' ! co' ! co' !" 

And oft the milkmaid, in her dreams, 

Drums in the pail with the flashing streams, 

Murmuring, " So, boss ! so !" 

Trowbridge. 

14. DRIFTING. 

[Copyright by J. B. Lippincott Company.] 

My soul to-day 
Is far away, 
Sailing the Vesuvian Bay ; 



MISCELLANEOUS. 127 

My winged boat, 
A bird afloat, 
Swims round the purple peaks remote : — 

Eound purple peaks 

It sails, and seeks 
Blue inlets and their crystal creeks, 

Where high rocks throw, 

Through deeps below, 
A duplicated golden glow. 

Far, vague, and dim, 

The mountains swim ; 
While on Vesuvius' misty brim, 

With outstretched hands, 

The gray smoke stands 
O'erlooking the volcanic lands. 

In lofty lines, 

'Mid palms and pines, 
And olives, aloes, elms, and vines, 

Sorrento swings 

On sunset wings, 
Where Tasso's spirit soars and sings. 

Here Ischia smiles 

O'er liquid miles ; 
And yonder, bluest of the isles, 

Calm Capri waits, 

Her sapphire gates 
Beguiling to her bright estates. 



128 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

I heed not, if 

My rippling skiff 
Float swift or slow from cliff to cliff; — 

With dreamful eyes 

My spirit lies 
Under the walls of Paradise. 



Under the walls 

Where swells and falls 
The Bay's deep breast at intervals 

At peace I lie, 

Blown softly by, 
A cloud upon this liquid sky. 

The day, so mild, 

Is Heaven's own child, 
With Earth and Ocean reconciled ; — 

The airs I feel 

Around me steal 
Are murmuring to the murmuring keel. 

Over the rail 

My hand I trail 
Within the shadow of the sail, 

A joy intense, 

The cooling sense 
Glides down my drowsy indolence. 

With dreamful eyes 
My spirit lies 
Where Summer sings and never dies, — 



MISCELLANEOUS. 129 

O'erveiled with vines, 
She glows and shines 
Among her future oil and wines. 

Her children, hid 

The cliffs amid, 
Are gambolling with the gambolling kid ; 

Or down the walls, 

With tipsy calls, 
Laugh on the rocks like waterfalls. 

The fisher's child, 

With tresses wild, 
Unto the smooth, bright sand beguiled, 

With glowing lips 

Sings as she skips, 
Or gazes at the far-off ships. 

Yon deep bark goes' 

Where Traffic blows, 
From lands of sun to lands of snows : — 

This happier one, 

Its course is run 
From lands of snow to lands of sun. 

O happy ship, 

To rise and dip, 
With the blue crystal at your lip ! 

O happy crew, 

My heart with you 
Sails, and sails, and sings anew ! 



130 DRILL-BOOK OF ELOCUTION. 

No more, no more 

The worldly shore 
Upbraids me with its loud uproar ! 

With dreamful eyes 

My spirit lies 
Under the walls of Paradise! 

T. Buchanan Read. 

15. TRIBUTE TO WATER. 

"There!"' he repeated, with a look as terrible as 
lightning, Avhile his enemy actually trembled at his 
feet; "there is the liquor which God, the Eternal, 
brews for all His children. Not in the simmering 
still, over smoky fires, choked w 7 ith poisonous gases, 
surrounded with the stench of sickening odors and 
corruptions, doth your Father in heaven prepare the 
precious essence of life — pure, cold water; but in 
the green glade and grassy dell where the red deer 
wanders, and the child loves to play, there God brews 
it; and down, low down in the deepest valleys, where 
the fountain murmurs and the rills sin^ ; and hi°;h 
upon the mountain-tops, Avhere the storm-cloud broods 
and the thunder-storms crash; and far out on the 
wide, wild sea, where the hurricane howls music, and 
the big w r ave rolls the chorus, sweeping the march of 
God — there he brew r s it, that beverage of life-health- 
giving water. 

" And everywhere it is a thing of life and beauty, 
gleaming in the dew-drop; singing in the summer 
rain; shining in the ice-gem, till the trees all seem 



MISCELLANEO US. 131 

turned to living jewels; spreading a golden veil over 
the setting sun, or a white gauze around the midnight 
moon ; sporting in the glacier ; folding its bright snow- 
curtain softly about the wintry world ; and weaving 
the many-colored bow, that seraph's zone of the siren, 
whose warp is the rain-drops of earth, whose woof is 
the sunbeam of heaven, all checked over with celes- 
tial flowers, by the .mystic hand of refraction. 

" Still always it is beautiful, that blessed life-water ! 
No poisonous bubbles are on its brink ; its foam 
brings not madness and murder ; no blood stains its 
liquid glass; pale widows and starving orphans weep 
not burning tears in its depths ; no drunkard's shrink- 
ing ghost, from the grave, curses it in the worlds of 
eternal despair ! Speak out, my friends : would you 
exchange it for the demon's drink, Alcohol?" A 
shout, like the roar of a tempest, answered, " No !" 

GOUGH. 



NDEX. 



[Subjects of selections are in small capitals; first lines of extracts in small 
letters.] 

PAGE 

Address to the Mummy Smith .... 51 

A hurry of hoofs in the village street ..... Longfellow . 16 

A Laughing Chorus Ey tinge ... 25 

All heaven and earth are still 77 

All silent they went, for the time was approach- 
ing 78 

All things are hushed, as Nature's self lay dead Dry den ... 78 

An Alpine Storm at Lake Geneva .... Byron. . . . 101 

And so beside the silent sea Whittier . . 82 

Arraignment of Catiline . Cicero .... 49 

Ashamed to toil, art thou V Dewey ... 58 

A true life must be genial and joyous ..... Greeley . . . 17 

Awake, O King, the gates unspar ! v . 57 

Ay ! gloriously thou standest there Bryant ... 65 

Barefoot Boy (The). Adapted Whittier . . 21 

Bells (The) Foe ..... 113 

Bells of Shandon (The) Mahony . . . 102 

Bodily Exercise Addison . . . 108 

Break, Break, Break Tennyson . . 98 

Bugle Song Tennyson . . 122 

Cataract of Lodore (The) Southey ... 118 

Charcoal Man (The) . Trowbridge . Ill 

Cheerful Locksmith (The) Dickens ... 19 

Cheerfulness Friswell ... 42 

Cheer up ! my friend, cheer up, I say 16 

12 133 



134 INDEX. 

PAGE 

Cradle-Song of the Poor (The) Proctor ... 87 

Curfew , Longfelloiv . 85 

Down the dark future, through long generations Longfellow . 80 

Do you think your hands were made to strike?' 59 

Drifting Read .... 126 

Edinburgh Field .... 55 

Emblems of Liberty in Nature Knowles . . . 72 

Evening at the Farm Trowbridge . 125 

Famine (The). Adapted Longfellow . 92 

Fish I didn't catch (The) Whittier . . 27 

Flower that in the crannied wall Tennyson . . 82 

For in all things he acquitted himself like a man Penn .... 19 

Give me Three Grains of Corn, Mother 83 

God Derzhaven . . 55 

Good Time coming (The) Mackay ... 23 

Go to the ant, v thou sluggard ! v Bible .... 58 

Hail, holy Light, offspring of Heav'n first-born Milton ... 46 
High Tide on the Coast of Lincolnshire 

(The). Adapted Ingelow . . . 103 

Hurrah for the sea ! the all-glorious sea ! 16 

Hush Proctor ... 80 

Hush ! Still as death Lowell ... 96 

Hymn to Mont Blanc Coleridge . . 67 

I called unto my God out of the great deep . . Story .... 95 

I dwell, where I would ever dwell v Wirt .... 58 

If you said so, then I said so 62 

In our age there can be no peace that is not 

honorable Sumner ... 97 

Insects generally must lead a jovial life 15 

Is this the part of wise men / 59 

It was night Willis .... 79 



INDEX. 135 

PAGE 

Keeping his Word Preston ... 116 

Kilimandjaro Taylor ... 74 

Look! look! that livid flash ! Lowell ... 96 

Lovely art thou, O Peace ! 44 

Nature of True Eloquence (The) .... Webster ... 51 

Night, sable goddess, from her ebon throno . . . Young ... 78 

None dared withstand him to his face Whittier . . 61 

Nut, my soul, what thou hast done Lombard . . 45 

Now Proctor ... 26 

Now black and deep the night begins to fall . . Thomson . . 80 

Now is the high-tide of the year Lowell ... 17 

Now on the hills I hear the thunder mutter . . Lowell ... 95 

O blithe newcomer ! I have heard Wordsworth . 16 

O ! but you regretted the partition of Poland ! 62 

O larks, sing out to the thrushes 17 

Only waiting till the shadows are a little longer 

grown 83 

O scenes surpassing fable Cowper ... 47 

Righteousness exalteth a nation N Bible .... 58 

Kobert of Lincoln Bryant ... 83 

Koll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean — roll ! . Byron .... 64 

Kome and Carthage Hugo .... 70 

Sea (The) Cornwall . . 35 

Sea (The) Burroughs . . !)9 

See! 7 See! 7 the dense crowd quivers 00 

Shut now the volume of history 7 . Everett ... 60 

Sink 7 or swim, N live 7 or die N Webster ... 59 

Song of the Shirt (The) Hood .... 89 

Still night; — and the old church bell hath tolled 78 

Tact and Talent. Adapted 62 

The common error is to resolve to act right af*er 

breakfast 61 



